Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“…preparing Specimen K-142…”

“…inject…”

“…filtering…particles…”

“…countdown…”

“…bye-bye sweetheart…”

...Fuck... you...

***

Zack? Cloud?

…

Quiet.

It was too quiet for all of the bullshit that happened in the last few… hours? Days?

How long did they keep me unconscious?

Kunsel kept his breathing soft and light, but he knew he was surrounded. There was the quiet of a forest. Of a back alley. There was the quiet of an empty room. This was the quiet of a large amount of people holding their breath.

…The wood splinters under me may have something to do with that.

…

Okay. Stay calm. Stay focused. Take stock.

I don’t have my weapons or my Materia. Or my pack. And these clothes are different. Civies, going by the feel… They couldn’t leave me my boots?

…Alright.

Face the music. Get back to Cloud and Zack.

Slowly, Kunsel blinked open his eyes.

Well, I was right about the people…

…

Where am I?

The people were wearing uniforms he didn’t recognize. It had to be a formal power, as all were the same, but it was one he didn’t know. And he knew all of the powers on both continents. He didn’t know the inside of the building. The architecture shared some elements with a few buildings in Midgar, fake Junon, and a couple of places around Mideel, but the combination was strange, and several elements were new to him. The smell of the food… He didn’t recognize it. There were several unfamiliar aromas.

This is going to delay me getting to Zack and Cloud.

…Yeah, I’m just going to kill everyone in the Science department. Shove them into tanks and let them feel their bodies break down and shrivel into noth-

No .

Focus. Focus. Be polite. Be calm. You know the game. Now play it. And then you’ll get back to them.

But you get information first. Gather information.

You can’t just run. You have to think. You have to plan.

Running got you in trouble. It was a mistake and they’re stuck there as a result. Don’t fuck up again.

In one fluid movement—as fluid as one could with a poorly bandaged back, messed up knee ligament, a low to medium grade concussion, a broken rib, a semi-fried nervous system via intense electric shock, and significant skin and bone bruises—Kunsel got up and held his hands by his head. He saw several daggers appear and heard the safety come off of even more guns. One man to his right was holding the hilt of a dagger but didn’t draw it. He had a… pensive look on his face.

“Who are you?”

“How did you get here?”

“Which of the two questions would you like me to answer first, sirs?” Kunsel politely asked as eyes flickered between the two who had spoken simultaneously.

You’d think they’d put me in a cell or locked room before starting interrogation. There are way too many people around. Someone is going to give something away… Unless they want a crowd for the physical torture. I wonder how fast we’ll get to that part?

“Who are you?” one of them repeated with a growl. Kunsel saw a few in the background give each other strange looks. Several shifted behind him. The one on his right was still staring. His grip was tense, but his arm had relaxed.

…This is pathetic. Do they not know how to properly interrogate? I don’t have time to waste. Zack and Cloud need me.

“I am Kunsel Zelda. I am a former SOLDIER, Second Class of the Shinra Electric Power Company. I am uncertain of the details of my arrival. I believe I was in a holding cell in Sector 4 of Midgar before arriving here. I am uncertain where ‘here’ is though.”

Kunsel scanned their faces. No real recognition showed for ‘SOLDIER’, ‘Shinra’, ‘Sector 4’, or ‘Midgar.’ The only thing that caused pause was the term ‘SOLDIER.’

Okay… This may be slightly more complicated than I thought, or they are actually very good actors… or they knew this and it’s a test.

Either way they know I’m military. That should cause them to bring in a professional. Then, I can get my information and leave.

The door at the end of the hall opened with a bang. Kunsel actually struggled to keep the smile off of his face as they approached. Through their posture, clothing, and overall attitude all three were high ranking military professional.

Finally. They can interrogate me, and I can get out and back to Zack and Cloud and Cloud and Zack and Zack and Cloud and Cloud and Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Zack Cloud Za-

Focus .

“Hello sirs,” Kunsel started without prompt. “To briefly repeat, I am Kunsel Zelda. I am a former SOLDIER, Second Class of the Shinra Electric Power Company. I am uncertain of the details of my arrival. And I do not know where ‘here’ is. No other questions were asked.”

All three stared at him and maintained his mostly neutral face with a small, respectful smile. He kept visible tension in his shoulders and ankles. A good solider would recognize the shoulders as him being ‘nervous’ and the tension and ankles means they assume he’s too locked up to run properly. He can play the game game game game game game-

Stop.

Focus .

“…Why are your hands up?” the youngest of the three gruffed out.

“I’d rather not be shot or stabbed, sir.”

The man didn’t nod or acknowledged his answer, but he and the very large man strode up to him. The younger one began to pat him down while the larger one roughly put him in handcuffs. He was blindfolded. The fabric was thin enough for him to still see.

“Walk,” the leader of the trio commanded.

Kunsel nodded and went with the men out into a corridor and down a few halls and floors into a small windowless room. Based on the dampness and slightly cool tinge to the air, he must be in a basement. The floor was sealed concrete and there was a drain in the corner. The walls were thick, and the door made of a metal.

Torture time. Lovely.

He was roughly put into a chair and the cuffs were cuffed to a chair. The blindfold was pushed off. The leader and the younger man sat in front of him. The largest man was leaning against a wall.

Stereotypical set up.

“How did you arrive here?” the leader growled out.

“I already answered this, sir. I don’t know,” Kunsel calmy replied. “Where is ‘here?”

“Who are you?”

“Again, I’m Kunsel Zelda, SOLDIER Second Class… though, at this point, it’s former SOLDEIR Second Class."

“What is the Shinra Electric Power Company?”

“It’s a company that produces and sells electricity to the general public. The SOLDIER division was created to clear out monsters and beasts from reactor sites before construction and act as a security force. Once they started to openly invade other countries to set up sites, they dropped the ‘security’ illusion and we were an outright army.”

“Why are you a ‘second class?’” the younger man stated.

“Because I worked my way up,” Kunsel said.

…Good question. Learned how I got there and what I meant by ‘Second Class’ in one go.

“And ‘former.’”

“I no longer work for Shinra. I found out more truths about the company and left.”

Deserted is more accurate, but they don’t need to know that.

The men continued to stare at him. There had been open distain when he mentioned Shinra’s colonial tendencies and they were not overly pleased at his military background, but there seemed to be annoyance at his leaving them. Which, sort of made sense. They were military and these things tended to be for life. You left from old age or death. Even those who were mangled could generally still work desk jobs or teach. Shinra always found a way to leech everything out of their employees.

“What do you want with the Kingdom of Lucis?”

“I don’t want anything,” Kunsel said, wracking his brain for a ‘Lucis.’ “I have never heard of ‘Kingdom of Lucis’ before.”

Both stared at him.

“What do you want with King Regis Lucis Caelum?”

“…I have never heard of that person,” Kunsel replied.

“What do you know of the Niflheim Empire?”

Is that a different way to… No. No. Nibelheim has never been an empire.

“I do not know that empire.”

The questions of people and places that Kunsel had never heard of continued for at least three and half hours. And Kunsel had to admit, he was impressed with these strangers. They rephrased the questions several times, trying to get him to change his answer. They were good at asking only one question and not revealing more than what was on the surface. However, as Kunsel did not know anything about the place he was currently in, even surface information was vital. He now knew that Lucis and Niflheim were rival powers, Tenebrae and Accordo were friendly, but neutral parties, and that Niflheim was in a position of strength compared to Lucis. He also knew the two in front of him were close work associates, and more than likely friends, who grew up in Insomnia--the Capital City--while the other against the wall was a well-respected colleague and acting as a distraction to whomever was listening in, as evidence by the slight static he heard from microphones embedded into the underside of the table and in the corners of the room between the wall and ceiling.

And he was not on either continent. None of the names were familiar, save for Niflheim. None of the people were familiar. The noises he heard from outside the building while in the hall… no recording could mimic that perfect randomness that wasn’t perfect or random. The virtual reality training at the Tower was good, but not that good. And the languages that drifted from the hall. He had never heard them. Again, a machine could generate sounds, but nothing they had could produce this. At least… none of the items that Shinra let the employees pawns things use.

Minerva, I hate absolutes.

It should have been easy for him to say that he wasn’t in a simulation or a constructed prison. All of the evidence was right in front of him. The smells, the sounds, the languages, the overall confusion at Shinra. But… Shinra was clever. And manipulative. Virtual reality training had been a company standard for five years and it was constantly improving. And Banora and Nibelheim… Shinra built and staffed entire fucking villages to hide their work. Hired people to live there and gave them scripts and made those who passed by think nothing of it. The cost was never too high. So, this could be one of those, even though the evidence was contradictory. But, it could also be a… a different place.

And… Kunsel didn’t know what to believe. Evidence can be manipulated and even the most obvious and unhidden items can be overlooked After all, he hadn’t been able to find Zack and Cloud for two years even though they had been in the most obvious place in the world and it took so long for him to realize that they were alive in the first place and he should have been more observant Reno Tseng Cissnei are Turks they are going to lie and lie and lie and hide and manipulate that’s what they do how could he have been so stupid and horrible and lazy and Goddess will Zack and Cloud forgive him will they ever be able to forgive him because he’ll never forgive himself he was one of the best and he was played like a child he deserves whatever torture these people are going to inflict he should be locked up after he saves them and he’ll spend the rest of his days making it up to them do they know he loves them he loves them more than anything in the world and he’s going to prove it and fix it and hide them and keep them safe and burn Shinra to the fucking ground everything turned to ash and the ash to a scorch mark he’ll kill them all and leave them bleeding and suffering and it will be slow they’ll suffer for days he’s good at that he assisted with so many terrorist cell watches he knows what to do Goddess please let him fix his mistakes and bring them back they’re his world and light and the only things worth living for in this world and if he’s not there then he has to get back so he has to plan and gather information and get back get back get back or if this is a simulation then he can’t trust anything or anything or anyone or even his own senses because he’ll be used again and his has to get out get out get out find them find them because they’re his family world and what’s the point of being ali-

Stop.

Focus.

You’ll find them. You’ll find them. It doesn’t matter if this is place is real or not. The first step is information gathering. And I’m doing that.

I won’t fuck again and if I do I’m sure they’ll torture me and I’ll deserve it and I’ll learn from even that and everything is going to be okay once I have them back.

And silence had now stretched for fourteen minutes. Kunsel waited eight seconds past the fifteen-minute mark.

“…May I ask where I am? I don’t believe that was ever answered.” He knew it wasn’t answered.

“You’ll be moved to a holding cell. We will continue later,” the leader spoke and looked over to the man by the door.

You’re not going to torture me? Seriously? What the hell is your game plan?

Once again, Kunsel was ‘blindfolded.’ He was placed-

Well, locked, but I can get out easily.

-inside a room with a sink, toilet, table, and a bed. There was water and bread on the table. There was a mattress and a pillow and sheets and a blanket on the bed. Kunsel rolled the clear plastic bottle in his hands, hoping the light would catch something. He opened it and paused just enough to smell for poison before taking a sip. He looked back at the bed. And then the door. There were no windows. And the walls were thick.

Oh. Okay. This makes sense.

…

Wish they had just beat me.

...

Well, I made it almost twenty-one years. I really can’t complain if something happens now.

Chapter Text

Kunsel liked to think that few things could shock him. Like, truly shock him. Not experiencing any kind of assault since he had arrived… to wherever he was, was one of those few things. No hits. No kicks. No knives or hot pokers or brands or meat cleavers or brass knuckles or shock collars. Nothing that would leave him bleeding or bruised. Nothing. He still hadn’t slept more than thirty minutes at time—thankfully his enhancements meant he only really needs about four hours of sleep a night, but can get by on two or three just fine—but… Nothing.

They mainly left him in the cell. The alone time allowed him to very discreetly work on his injuries, especially his knee. If he was going to run, then his legs had to be in good condition. He’s run on sprained ankles before, but it sucked. He thought he was going to have to run on a broken leg in Wutai; Zack’s shoulder had been completely warped, so he couldn’t carry him. But then Angeal swooped with the force of a hurricane and blasted down the Wutai insurgents. He carefully, so completely and truly carefully, grabbed both of them and carried them back to camp. Even in the heat of the moment, even with so much chaos going on… he had managed to keep them safe. He checked on them after their injuries were treated and let them stay in his tent. He… he told them an old story from Gonga legend. Zack spent the whole night correcting and arguing with him over the details. He probably did it on purpose to give Zack an outlet for all of his big emotions. Because Zack… Zack could be subtle. Zack could be the most subtle person in the world, even when being boisterous and bright and kind—so completely and totally kind—he knew how to talk. He knew how to say something without saying it. He didn’t do it often, mostly because Zack believed that if a person had something to say, then they should just say it. But no matter how subtle Zack could be, all of his emotions were big. He didn’t do things halfway. Ever. Kunsel didn’t understand how he could be ‘on’ all the time, but… But he always tried to return sentiment and emotion. For him and then for Cloud. They deserved his fullest and most honest emotions.

He had been questioned three more times by the same people. They asked him the same repetitive questions before locking him up again.

“What is ‘Shinra?’”

“What do you want the with Kingdom of Lucis?”

“What is ‘Sector 4?’”

“What is your relationship to Niflheim?”

“What is ‘Midgar?’”

“What do you know of MTs?”

“Where is ‘Midgar?’”

“What do you think of Regis Lucis Caelum?”

“What is ‘SOLIDER?’”

And they gave him not only bread and water, but chicken at lunch and dinner, and an apple. An apple. In terms of prison, that was basically like a piece of candy. And the water was always fresh. Always. They gave him a cup to drink from. A plate to eat off and even a fucking fork to cut up the chicken. And there was soap. He could wash his hands. Or his face. And there was even a towel his could use dry off. And a mirror on the door. He… he didn’t understand, and he was…

Worried. He was scared worried. Because giving him this much stuff… He was so scared worried that this was a simulation, or a fabrication, created by Shinra. Drawing him in with these niceties and being kind and repetitive and not actually asking him anything…

They did this. During Wutai. Some of their prisoners had valuable information and they would bring in the Turks. Sometimes, the honeyed approach worked wonders. People would just poor out information without realizing it. Sometimes, it didn’t.

Kunsel wouldn’t let it work. If this was some fabrication, then Reno’s threats, Tseng’s quiet words, and Cissnei’s manipulations… He was going to be trapped. He was going to be trapped and Zack and Cloud were locked away and he wasn’t going to be able to save them. He would be forced into being a Turk. A long off dream now a very terrifying nightmare.

Minerva, what did I do wrong? What could I have done differently? Please, please I beseech you. Tell me what I could do better, and I will. I will. You don’t even have to welcome me into the Lifestream. Condemn me to roam the world until my soul fades into the cosmos; just let me find them. Get them. Save them. I love them. I love them so much. Please. Please, Goddess.

…

He really wasn’t expecting a reply.

The door opened. It was the biggest interrogator.

…He could be the youngest, though. He and the other one look to be the same age…

His door guard, the same person who had given him the strangest looks when he first arrived, was now giving him a curious look. Kunsel sat up and stared at them with a polite smile as the routine started. His hands were cuffed. And he was blindfolded. He was pat down and then steered down the hall… Oh. They were going a different way.

Maybe the curtain is finally going to pulled back? Maybe I can figure out what is going on?

They continued to walk until they reached a different room. For the first time he was completely bound to the chair. He took a breath and began to repeat his old SOLDIER title and ID code. He knew how to handle torture. Shinra may have thrown them into Wutai underprepared in combat, but they damn well knew what to expect for tortur-

Hot Hot Veins fire. Hot. Shrieking. Hot. Light. Burning burning burning wrongwrongwrongwrong stopstopstopsto-

***

“Cloud!”

“Get down!”

“…What the hell? Wha- Why are their scorch marks everywhere?”

“So, my girlfriend’s birthday is in a few days I’m trying to figure out the best to light the candle.”

“…A match. You use a match. Or a lighter if you’re feeling fancy.”

“That’s boring, Cloud. And she’s amazing! She deserves something special and spectacular for her day! So, we have the Figara-”

“Kunsel. Why are you letting this happen. You’re the voice of reason.”

“…I’m honestly curious if he can pull it off. We’ve gotten… very close way more times than thought we would. So… Yeah. I’m all in. We’re gonna figure this out one way or another.”

“No. No… This… I’m younger than you both. How am I the rational one here?”

“…It’s your turn to be responsible. So, here’s the fire extinguish- Where are you going?”

“I am not dealing with this today.”

Kunsel’s head hurt. His veins were on fire. His whole body was wrecked.

And yet he was struggling to keep the smile off of his face. Finally, he had some proof. He wasn’t in a simulation or fabrication. Nothing like what he had just felt could have come from the Planet. Mako, the lifeblood of the Planet, worked with everything there. Certainly, it could cause mutations, and Mako Addiction was a thing, but it didn’t burn like it was trying to cauterize your soul. This had to be a different place. This had to be a different world. He wasn’t being held hostage by Shinra. They weren’t going to force him to become a Turk or do their dirty work or make him a specimen. He was in another world. Another world. Another…

I’m in another world.

His eyes opened as the sobering realization hit him like a sledgehammer. He was in another world. A world away from Cloud and Zack.

How is this possible? What happened? How-

“Bye-bye sweetheart.”

Those bastards. How did they do this? Why did they do this? Did the even know what they were doing? Was I supposed to live? Are they monitoring me… somehow? If I am a test subject, then they have to have a way to track me. To recall me… That’s it. If I am a test subject, then there has to be a way for them to pull me back. Why would they just throw people—how the fuck can they throw people—into a different world with no way to bring them back? They’re unethical and unhinged and filled with god-complexes, but they aren’t stupid. And… Shinra is many things, but they aren’t purposefully wasteful. The Mako injections keep the SOLDIERs under their control, so that’s an expense they can eat. But just throwing people into a different world— How am I breathing? How can I understand them? Why do things look familiar? This doesn’t make sense. There’s no way I should be able to speak their language, at the very least- Oh fuck. They aren’t going to believe I’m from another world and accidently came here since I’m speaking the same language. I mean, it wasn’t an accident, but I didn’t have a say. Shit. This is going to take time. Time, I don’t have because they’re still locked away. Being hurt. For fucks sake, I am going to burn the whole damn thing down when I get back. I’ll hide them away in the cabin, go back to Midgar, get Aerith, and burn the whole damn thing down… Save for Reeve. I can yell and threaten him and make him fix it. He likes fixing things.

This isn’t good, but I have a plan. I have a plan. Everything will be fine. I am fine. I have a plan.

“…You really took a hit, didn’t you?”

Kunsel’s eyes snapped over. He… he hadn’t realized someone else was in the room. That was unacceptable. On every level. It was the door guard. He felt the restraints on his wrist and didn’t try to sit up.

“…Really not going to say anything?”

Well, now I just want to be quiet on principle… Cloud would be proud. He’d probably laugh.

“I apologize for not talking. I am trying to gather my bearings. I think this is appropriate, since I was rendered unconscious.”

“…Right.” The guard returned to… staring at the screen? There were touch screens around the Tower, but all had to be hooked into the wall or a power station. Why were these ones in their hand? How much of a technological difference did this world have compared to his?

The door opened and the potentially younger, but definitely largest, of the three main interrogators entered. Once again, Kunsel was steered to the usual interrogation room. He was hooked up to a machine that was similar to the lie detector tests they sometimes used.

“State your name.”

“Kunsel Zelda.”

“State your rank.”

“SOLDIER Second Class.”

“State you are a citizen of Insomnia.”

“…I’m a citizen of Insomnia.”

The machine apparently calibrated, the leader, as per usual, started.

“You are not of this world.” The leader stated.

So, we’re just jumping in. I work with that. Should he have stated that as a question though? For the machine?

“No. I am not. I am sorry for not expanding on this earlier.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Mostly because I only realized it a few minutes ago when the light hit me. Nothing like that exists in my world. There were a few hints earlier, such as me not recognizing any of the people you questioned me about, and I have never seen uniforms like the ones you wear, but I wasn’t completely certain. I did not want you to think that I was crazy.”

“…What else could this be?” asked the skinny, potentially younger one.

“A virtual simulation or elaborate fabrication created by Shinra. Our virtual realities capabilities that I know of couldn’t produce all of the effects of a real world, but they’ve lied about many things, so it’s possible they have this capability and just never said it. They have constructed entire towns and hired people to live in them and forever play the role of townsfolk to hide some of their more elaborate lies. As I was uncertain about which it was, I needed to be careful. I do hope you can understand.”

They all stared at the machine for a long minute—almost two minutes—and then looked back at him. He kept a small, but pleasant smile on his face and his body language was fully open. No reason for him to appear suspicious. He was being incredibly careful.

“Your former employers would put you into a virtual simulation or construct an entire town just to get information out of you?” he asked again in a disbelieving and clipped tone.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“They’re bastards.”

Fuck. That’s way too much emotion. I have to be more controlled. I need them to like me, so I can get out of the cell. So I can get out a bit and figure out how to get back.

Something in their body language shifted and they… they… became more open? It wasn’t by much, but it was definitely there. Kunsel kept his composure but wracked his brain as for they would become more open when he showed that kind of negative emotion.

“What do you want in our world?”

“I don’t want anything. I didn’t choose to come here. My former employer sent me here and I don’t know why. I just want to get back to my world.”

“Why?”

Kunsel looked over to the bulky one.

“…Because it’s my world. And I didn’t have choice in leaving it.” He knew there was too much annoyance in his voice, but really, what were they expecting? And had to get back to Zack and Cloud. He had to save them.

“Do you know how to return?” the leader took over again with the questions.

“No. I don’t know how they sent me, and I don’t know how to get back. There must be a way as I am here. I just don’t know it yet.”

If I knew I wouldn’t be here, dumbass.

“You would need to use our resources.”

“I’d like to think of this in a different way,” Kunsel said. “It’s not so much me using your resources, but you using me.”

He the idea sit for seventeen seconds before continuing.

“None of us know how I arrived. And I think we’re in agreement that I need to return to my world. So, use me. Let me figure out a way back and make sure that no one can be dropped through again. Or let me work the people in this world who would have some knowledge of this type of travel. If things don’t work out, you can just kill me. Nothing wasted.”

The three men left the room. He had never been alone in this room, and he knew someone had to be watching him from behind the mirror. He let his eyes randomly roam around for a minute before deciding to close them. As much as he was tempted to break out, they didn’t know about his enhancements… or at least he didn’t think so. The three had walked far enough away that he couldn’t hear anything, which was annoying. But if they were meeting their King… Well, for as much as found them to be stupid, that was a security measure he could agree too. Keeping the ruler away from potential threats, even when they thought the threat was secure, was fairly smart. Hopefully they were smart enough to take him up on his offer. Obviously, he wanted to get back, but they could use that to their advantage. It had worked consistently with his dealings with the Turks, some Wutaians, and a few terrorist cells. It should work here.

The entered the room and he was led back to his cell.

No one came and got him the next day.

If no one shows up tomorrow, I’m getting out of here. This is… I’m wasting time. I could… I could…

…

He stared at the ceiling. If he left… What could he do? In another world? With no idea or knowledge or understanding how the hell any of this was possible? Trying to find a way back with new enemies, who know the customs and land far better than he could, dogging his every step? And besides, a medical professional hasn’t looked at his knee. His knee…

His knee didn’t hurt. Not like it had before the light. He reached a hand under the back of shirt and felt for the scarring from Reno’s beating. They were gone. Completely. And his arms felt better. He could move his fingers and toes more easily. It was more than a few minutes or even hours. Days. He had lost days. If not a week. Why didn’t they…

“There’s no waste for Shinra, sweetheart. You know that.”

Shinra doesn’t waste. They wouldn’t just send someone way without a certified recall. But they would need a way to observe. To gather data… They’re working with them. They’re working with Shinra. Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know, but it would explain why they didn’t question how I could speak their language. Or be able to digest their food. There’re so many variables that they didn’t ask, but if they’ve communicated with Shinra and they’re a part of this… Or… Does Shinra have something that works against Mako? Something that would set the Lifestream aflame? Am I still on Gaia? I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t kno-

Calm down.

Calm . Down.

Focus.

You… You have to play the game. If there’s a chance you running could cause more pain to Zack or Cloud… Running is always option. Manipulating them into giving me information is a one-shot. You’re… You’re in a corner. For now, I’m in a corner. I need to get out of it and then a choice.

So, for now, I play the game.

And you know how to play the game. You know it. So play it.

Get the information.

Find Cloud and Zack.

That’s an order, Second Class.

Chapter Text

He was left alone for another few days. And while he used the time to think about his situation, wondering when another interrogation session was going to happen and not analyzing his captor’s behavior, this opened up a new--and more uncomfortable--line of thought.

Kunsel was hungry.

Extremely hungry.

The portions given to him would keep him alive—Shinra wouldn’t manufacture anything so weak that it couldn’t survive starvation for a few months—but fucking hell he forgot how bad the gnawing pain could be. A part of him was fairly annoyed and disgusted with himself. He and Zack were starved during their time as POWs. And before that, he had spent years growing up on the streets and scrounging for food where he could. And the jailors kept all of the kids skinny at the boy’s homes and orphanages so people would steer clear. Kids would do anything for food and a bed. Free labor for starvation portions and a thin sheet on the floor was not uncommon. Instead of playing by their rules, Kunsel’s rebellious violent nature got him thrown into juvie and solitary confinement for a few weeks. Not that he ever regretted his choices. The bastard had it coming, and had he not been ripped off and beaten before being thrown into handcuffs, Kunsel would have done more damage. For better or worse his first time killing another person wouldn’t occurred until few years later. Now, he felt the emptiness of his stomach with each breath. He tried to eat slowly and to save what he could to continuously have something in stomach, but that did little to help. He was fairly glad he mostly trained to sleep in thirty-minute increments as the hunger didn’t allow him to fully settle into a REM sleep. Though, the upside of that was that he couldn’t have nightmares about horrors Zack and Cloud were facing. It also meant he couldn’t relive his most precious memories of them. The food was the same every day and was plain, but it did little to help with the nausea. He found that kind of the hilarious. He was so hungry, yet if given the choice, his body would choose to rid itself of the food instead of hanging onto it and sucking every last drop of nutrients from it.

…Maybe that was why Shinra worked so hard to keep Reactor 0 a secret. Hundreds sent to a specialized 'hospital' only to be mutated and mutilated. To create the next SOLDIER. And before that, dozens upon dozens of pregnant women and children scraped off the streets for the Stagnant Mako experiments. The results of those experiments were buried. Literally. Kunsel had to dig up chests of papers that were almost completely illegible. He knew some survived, but most… He prayed the Lifestream was as kind and gentle and warm of a place that the myths and legends promised it would be. All who were forced beneath the tower deserved a gentle and peaceful eternity in the embrace of the Planet. They didn’t do anything wrong. They weren’t the ones actively hurting the Planet. Those who were… Well. All SOLDIERs paid a price. Or a bless, depending on how one viewed aging.

We’ll get old. I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll find you both and we’ll get old together in the cabin. We’ll be crabby and cranky but wouldn’t trade each other for anything. I’ll find you. I swear I will. I swear it…

On the fifth day, the leader of the interrogators entered his cell. Kunsel sat up and leaned against the wall. He waited for an order.

“There will be a person who speaks to you everyday outside your cell. You will answer the questions. You will ask none.”

“Of course,” Kunsel replied with a smile. The leader studied him and then left.

A few hours a later a tap was at the door. And a panel at the bottom slide open.

“What do you remember of the place you were before you were sent here?”

Kunsel had to restrain the grin. No matter the words, he knew the voice of a scientist. Finally, they could start to get some results. He could get back to Cloud and Zack.

He felt a tempered hope.

***

Three weeks later, Kunsel wanted kick himself for letting himself be fool enough to allow any hope to crawl under his skin.

There were no results. The questions were varied, but there was nothing to be gained. He could tell from their tone that they were getting nowhere. They didn’t trust him enough to fully take his word and Kunsel—being stupid and useless and pathetic and not paying attention—didn’t remotely know enough. Fucking Turks and their SOLDIER drug. He should have gotten a hold of it years ago and built up a tolerance. Another mistake that’s cost him dearly. They were at an impasse, and he didn’t know how to move forward.

Then, the scientist stopped showing up for a few days and Kunsel thoughts cycled around and around.

“Do you remember any noises?”

“Do you remember any smells?”

“Do you remember any sounds?”

“How did you feel when you landed?”

“How are you physically feeling?”

“How are you mentally feeling?”

“How is your sleep?”

“Tell us about your world.”

All of the questions had been carefully constructed. He spent hours circling on how to reverse engine them to figure out if this place was another world or a simulation or a fabrication or if they were in league with Shinra or not, but came up with very little. He was ready to run. If, for nothing else, to find more food. Considering how many dumpsters he had eaten his way through on an unenhanced stomach, this enhanced one could handle moldy and half rotten scraps of half-eaten food.

On the fourth day of silence, the large one entered, and he was lead back to the interrogation room. The usual three were there. The liar detector wasn’t there.

“You have a choice here, so listen well.”

Kunsel nodded and sat a little straighter.

“You cannot be released from the Kingdom’s custody. However, there is little point in keeping you locked in a room. You say that you are no threat to this Kingdom? You say that you were a soldier? Then it is time to prove it. If you wish to be let out of the cell, then you will operate under the Kingsglaives. As a prisoner, you will not be officially allowed to join, but you will go on missions. You will have to prove your words. You will be under guard at all times. One misstep and you will not leave that cell again.”

Kunsel smile and nodded. It was the easiest choice in the world.

“I thank you for the opportunity to prove myself. I understand the necessary precautions and look forward demonstrating that I do not require them. My only goal is to return to my world and ensure that no one can enter this one again. I do not wish harm upon anyone in this kingdom.”

He handcuffed, but not blindfolded, as he was led to a different building. Based on the noises, it had to be a barrack of some kind. He was lead up fourteen flights of stairs and down a hallway. There were guards outside a door to a small apartment. The door guard was inside.

“Standard reports, Ulric.”

“Sir,” the door guard—Ulric—said with a small salute.

The large one uncuffed him and left. The door was firmly locked.

“Nice to see you again. I’m Nyx. Nyx Ulric.”

“It is nice to see you, Mr. Ulric. Though, a touch strange for you to be on this side of the door,” Kunsel replied with a smile. Ulric smirked.

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotten an upgrade. Inside of guarding the door, I get to guard you. ‘Under guard at all times,’ remember? AKA, I’m your new roomie.”

…Minerva, seriously, what did I do to deserve this?

“I see. Well, I do hope this will be a short tenure.”

“Yep. I imagine you want to get back pretty fast. But that’s gonna take time. A long time from what I understand. So, while I’m officially here to make sure you can’t do a damn thing besides follow orders, I’d like to see you in stay in one piece. If you need anything, food... water... or anything, just let me know. Can't make promises I'll be able to do anything, but the information would be nice.”

“…I think I’m going to be fine, Mr. Ulric.”

What the fuck is he trying to get at? Does anyone in this world make sense? Do they think I'm going to be so stupid as to tell them anything? Like hell I'm going to be vulnerable. Not to anyone here and especially not to this joke of a guard. 

“Right… You can call me Nyx. Mr. Ulric is kind of formal.”

“I prefer the formality, sir.”

“Well, Kunsy-”

Fuck you.

“-I think it’s a bit strange, but more power to you. As you can see, there are no doors on anything save for the bathroom. If it’s closed for more than five minutes, I’m barging in. There’s no lock. There’s a small partition in your room if your shy, but otherwise that’s it. Food’s in the fridge. And you can throw your clothes in the washer.”

“I understand all the precautions, Mr. Ulric. Thank you for laying out the ground rules.”

Why bother with the privacy lecture when I’m going to have to be naked when I wash these clothes?

“Well, I think I shall take a shower now. It’s been a minute,” Kunsel said with his smiling mask and walked into the bathroom.

“…You might want to grab some clean clothes,” Ulric casually said. “They’re in your room, in the chest of drawers.”

Kunsel slowed and changed direction. He walked into the room, which had an incredibly comfortable looking bed, a rug, and… And clean clothes. They were simple, but clean.

What the fuck is wrong with these people? What is their angle?

…

It doesn’t matter. I’m out of the cell. And I’m going to go on missions. I can do recon. I can gather intel and scout and get some damn answers. I just have to keep playing the game.

Be polite. Be a good little ‘soldier.’

I can do this. I’m fine.

I’m fine.

Hang on a bit longer, guys. I’m getting closer. I swear, I’ll get you out. I swear it.

Chapter Text

It was almost midnight when his guard fell asleep. Kunsel waited another minute, before getting up and silently walking out. He hadn’t heard the electric hum of a bug all day. And he hadn’t heard them in his cell. This place… He didn’t understand it. Yes, there were guards around, but a camera or at least an audio feed was standard. Everywhere in the Tower was littered with bugs. They had to be somewhere. No power would be so stupid as to not have them. Why couldn’t he hear them?

Unless they’re going to add them later…

Get me to get my guard down and then start.

…

…

He shook his head and walked into the kitchen. At any rate, he could now eat more. There were dozens of containers of nuts and protein powder. Fresh fruit and vegetables. Frozen and thawed meat. It had to be for the guard, but if he was careful, he could take more of what he needed without Ulric noticing. He grabbed a container with nuts and poured out a decent amount, and then mixed the protein powder with water. He really wanted one of the peach-like fruits on the counter. He didn’t take it.

He walked over to the curtain on the far side of the room and slightly pulled it back. Thousands of twinkling lights were dotted across the dark. Floodlights were around their current area. It was a huge, sprawling city. Kunsel vaguely wondered if it was stacked, like Midgar. He started to eat the nuts and sip on the protein powder water. He wanted to open the glass door, but more than likely that would result in an alarm going off. Something similar was in his and Zack’s bunks when they were thirds. It was a bitch of a thing to deal with, but it always made escapes that much more satisfying. He looked at the gardens surrounding the area and wondered how many traps were embedded in the seemingly harmless area. He hadn’t been outside in a month.

After an hour or so, he washed up everything and went back into the room they were letting him use.

A few minutes later, he was the bathroom vomiting all that he had eaten beforehand.

What the fuck?

That was a small amount. Why…

He rinsed his mouth out and went back to the bedroom. He laid down and didn’t sleep.

***

“…You know, when you spar, you’re supposed to actually fight back,” Ulric drawled out, watching him from the wall of the gym.

Kunsel had been sparring with another guard, Pelna Khara, for a few days. Well, it could hardly be considered sparring. They gave him wooden weapons, which was understandable but annoying, and they were going through the basic stances. It was a little insulting as he and everyone else knew at least this much when the joined Shinra. He didn’t know anyone who hadn’t grown up getting into the occasional fight, and these people were taking it so fucking slow.

Granted, he was their enemy. So, it did partially make sense that they were keeping his fighting a minimal level. If they were a part of Shinra, then this could be a test to see if he could keep pace with the rest of them. If they weren’t with Shinra, then this was a test to establish what he actually knew. And it was okay. It was all okay. He knew how to test and test well. Be alert, but not predicting. Show competence, but not mastery. Let them hurt him. Do not hurt his opponent. He was fine. He was fine. He was fine. He was fine.

“I am simply getting a feel for your fighting style, Mr. Ulric. Forgive me if I do not move overly quickly,” Kunsel replied with a polite smile. “I do apologize for the interruption Mr. Khara.”

“You can ditch the ‘Mister.’ Seriously,” Khara responded.

“I wouldn’t want to insult.”

“…Right,” Khara said with a sharp edge and moved again.

Again and again and again, Kunsel dodged and parried. After a few more round, he did start to fight a little, but kept the movements open and predictable. Only a few times did he feel comfortable enough to actually be bold and fight closer to how he normally would. It was... more challenging than he thought it would be. Negating his fighting style should have been simple. But it wasn't. 

...Its always been hard...

"Why don't you hold back? You know, lower everything and extend the fight? You know that Cloud's still learning."

"I know. But the more I go at full strength, the better prepared he'll be. Besides, he gets really grumpy if I do hold back."

"Hahaha, yeah. Gets all ruffled like a Chocobo."

"Better than a puppy."

"Kunsel, why?!"

His guards grumbled in a language he didn’t understand, but that was alright. He would figure it out in a few weeks. He ran a hand along the shackles that supposedly could send an electric pulse that would knock him out. He wasn’t allowed outside the apartment without them on. Inside the apartment, they were kept locked away. But it was fine. Honestly, it was the most normal thing that had happened-

“-sel! Kunsel!”

Kunsel look at Ulric and they were-

…

They were in the apartment.

“I apologize, Mr. Ulric. I was spacing for a minute. Could you please repeat what you said?”

Ulric stared at him for a long minute before scoffing and taking off the remaining shackle.

“…Just asking what you want to eat.”

“I am not hungry. But I thank you for the offer.”

He couldn’t eat. Not when felt like he was going to be sick. He walked into the bedroom and sat at the desk and started to draw. He couldn’t be sick. He couldn’t let any of them see a weakness like that. While they hadn’t hurt him yet, he was prepared. When it finally hit, it was going to be brutal and he knew it. But that was okay. He was fine. He was fine. He was learning their routine and finding gaps and soon enough he’d be able to sneak out and learn more about this place and find out how to get back to Cloud and Zack. He just… They were good. These people were good. But Kunsel was better. He just had to be careful. Not being careful enough thinking Reno wouldn’t really hurt him got him into trouble before. He wouldn’t make those mistakes. He wouldn’t.

…Why don’t I remember getting back to the apartment?

It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t. We were in the middle of fighting. It was roughly nine forty-three to fifty-two and now it’s… half past eleven. This is bad. Did they drug me? My arms and legs look fine…

…

Fuck. What is happening? I have to figure it out. I have to…

…

A knock at his door.

He looked up to see Ulric with this world’s PHS.

“Another round of calls.”

“Of course. Thank you,” Kunsel replied taking the PHS.

He spent the next five hours answer questions.

***

Spar. Questions. Food. Planning.

Spar. Questions. Food. Planning.

Spar. Questions. Food. Planning.

Spar. Questions. Food. Planning.

Spar. Questions. Food. Planning.

The days blurred together worse than in the cell. He was constantly moving around. There wasn’t enough time to think. Not really. He still couldn’t figure out a good way out the cell, but he was reaching the point of not caring. He was gaining some evidence—his body rejecting food—of this being a different world, but it still wasn’t enough. He needed to get out. To do something. Even if he would just be running, it would be something. The food problem was the most immediate issue as he was reaching the limit of his reservoir of calories and energy. Soon, physical signs would start to show. And then they would ask questions. Unless he should be losing weight... If they were with Shinra, then they'd know if he was really healthy or not based on how much he ate. But if they didn't know, then there was no reason for them to know he needed more food. He couldn't let them know. That was a weakness... Fuck. He was fucked one way or another on that issue and he'd rather have the strength to fight. Or run. Or... Do something.

And the memory issues… That scared him. He lost anywhere from a few seconds to over an hour. Was this due to moving between worlds? Or was this is a glitch in a very complicated computer system? Or was he losing his mind and would end up like the General and just destroying everything he basically was doing that by not being smart enough to find Zack and Cloud in the first plac-

Stop.

Stop. 

Focus. Focus.

Signs. There were signs.

Be rationale. Think rationally. Don't do the work of your enemies.

...Something in air maybe? In the food? Something in this world that was reacting badly to his foreign body? He didn’t have access to microscopes or medical kits. If he did, then he would’ve already started taking samples from himself.

…Maybe I should start a fight? If I let them hurt me enough, then I’ll be in medical. I can do experiments there. Or, I can let them do the work, kill them, and then run.

…

Yeah. Yeah, that could work. And maybe a few solid hits would let me feel something.

Kunsel smiled and laid down. That was it. Tomorrow, he’d start a fight, let them beat him, go to medical, let them do the tests, kill everyone who had access to his records, and then find a spot in the city to hide and plan in. It was…

It was…

…

It was a terrible plan. A million things could go wrong.

But it was the only option he had left.

Cloud and Zack needed him. They needed him and he was failing them.

***

“Congrats. You’ve earned your first ‘mission.’ We’re going to Hammerhead.”

Kunsel relaxed his grip on the cast iron frying pan and stared at Ulric.

…

…This was not part of the plan.

But I’ll take it.

He was more than surprised when they didn’t blindfold him for the ride out. He spent the whole time looking out the window as the others chatted in a language he didn’t know. The shackles were on, but he didn’t care. He could see. He could see and learn and plan.

Idiots.

He was surrounded by idiots.

Thank you, Minerva.

It was around six hours later when they stopped at small place that looked more like a waystation than a town. A gruff older man walked out of a mechanic’s shop and walked over to them.

“Bout time. We got a hell of lot of bandersnatches in the area, along with more daemon activity at night,” the old man literally gruffed out. His eyes focused on Kunsel. “That the one?”

“Don’t worry. He’s more harmless than not. But we’ll be in the old hotel. He’s not allowed anywhere else.”

“…Right.”

Kunsel stood by the car until Ulric came over and walked him to the ‘old hotel.’ He didn’t want to go back inside. It had been almost two months since sunlight had touched his face and the wind whirled around him. He wanted to be outsid-

“Nyx! Sighting on the ridge!”

And that changed the plans. And he got to be outside for a while longer as they fought the beasts. Kunsel mainly blocked and kept them from running toward the town, while the other actually fought. It was a sizeable heard, but the guards were actually very good soldiers. Kunsel studied their movements as much as the beasts. Their teamwork. And he kept an ear on the whispers from the town, especially from the gruff man. He knew he was being watched by the others and continued to preform like the good little solider he was supposed to be. Overall, not a bad day.

But then he was put into the hotel. He could hear everything, but it wasn’t the same. Sitting in the sunlight was okay, but not the sam-

“…You can open the window.”

Kunsel froze his drawing and looked at Ulric, who was watching him with a different expression. One that… That hadn’t been casted toward him in a very long time.

“Here and at the apartment. You can open the windows. It’s allowed.”

“…It’s unnecessary, but thank you, Mr. Ulric.”

Ulric raised an eyebrow and went back to emailing people on his PHS. Kunsel looked down at the drawing and debated moving. Sure, Ulric knowing he wanted some fresh air wasn’t the worst thing, but it was still a weakness known. A flaw. The smallest cracks lead a building collapsing. He couldn’t afford to give anything else away.

Khara arrived with dinner and ate with them. It was a cheeseburgers and fries. Kunsel ate it all and for the first time in a month didn’t feel like sick. He even cleared off the fries. It was good. it was so damn good. He’d call a perfect day of gathering information, if it wasn’t for Ulric’s eyes. The man had watched him all afternoon. Even when talking with Khara, he was watching him.

I can do better. I just need to show more initiative and get more missions. I can do better. I can do better.

…

Hell, even without that, I can try and slip out now that I know the windows can be opened. Or, well, I can test it. Give it a few days and make sure there are no bugs or cameras. I can’t rush. I can’t make a mistake.

…

I can find out more here.

Once again, he waited until Nyx was asleep, so to move. He walked toward the window and drew the curtain back.

…

…

They’re not the same.

Kunsel swallowed hard and gripped the curtain tightly. The stars were not the same. The entire sky was different. He didn’t know anything. He didn’t recognize a single star. Nothing. Not any one. He didn’t know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know he didn't kn-

Movement.

“…What are you doing, Kunsel?”

For the first time, he was more than keenly aware of the shackles around his wrist.

“Looking at the sky. You can’t see the stars in the city.”

Fuck. I sound like a child.

Kunsel turned around and Ulric had the same look on his face as earlier. He stared at him before walking over and looking out the window.

“…Well, you’ve seen them. We have more work tomorrow. Get to sleep.”

Kunsel nodded and walked back to his bed and laid down with arms across his stomach. He could feel Ulric watching him. He muttered something in the unknown language before turning off the lamp. Kunsel could see him watching him from his peripheral.

***

It really is a giant city. So similar, but so different from Midgar…

Kunsel stood the ledge of a building and watched some of the traffic below. He knew he needed to keep moving, but being away from everyone… He wanted it to last a bit longer. Ulric hadn’t lied about him being able to open the windows and glass door. And there were no cameras around. Truly, this world was run by fools of the highest level. But, that made things easier for him.

He took a breath and looked toward the large and impressive building.

What better place to find information, than a library?

Hold on. Zack. Cloud. I'm getting closer. I am.

Chapter Text

Okay… I get why these people are under attack, but I’m not sure how they haven’t been subjugated yet.

…

Maybe I should give their military a bit more credit…

Maybe.

It was the third time Kunsel had snuck out to the library. The first night was to test the security around the main base. The second was to check the library’s security. Both were terrifyingly dismal. If this was Kunsel’s world, he’d rework the entire system without hesitation or pause. There were too many holes and gaps for people to slip through. Not nearly enough cameras or bugs. Everything neatly laid out and organized and marked. Literally, a spy in the city could find anything they wanted. It was thoroughly baffling. It almost made him believe that this was world may be independent of Shinra.

Almost.

Acting without concrete information got him into this mess in the first place. He needed solid proof, not emotion led decisions.

“Come on, Kuns. It’s this way!”

“How do you know these things?”

“Gonga gut instinct! Never fails.”

…I’m not Zack. I could never be like him. Not if I trained for a century or a millennium could I be like him. He would have gotten to the Manor. Broken us out. He’d never fail Cloud or me like this. 

Kunsel shook his head and walked through the library. It was another baffling part of the city. Most libraries in Midgar were restricted to fiction, with the non-fiction sections acting as Shinra propaganda. The only place that had a few exemptions were in the archives in the Tower. Unprocessed manuscripts collections, raw data sets, broken pieces of pottery, and un-cataloged books that would never see the light of day. Only kept to be used by the board members, the science department, and the Turks. Anything else was smashed and torn apart; destroyed so no one would know about it. His mother’s record is the only reason his Juno wasn’t completely incorrect. And the folktales and myths…

“…I-I don’t understand, sir. I thought-”

“You thought it was destroyed, Third Class? Most were, but I have connections.”

No. No.

Don’t think about it. After all, the book and the record and everything else…

…

It’s gone. The Turks would have gone through my hideouts and found them and destroy them. They’re gone.

He quickly pressed his hand against his eyes.

No . I don’t have time to cry. I have to work.

With a sharp and quick inhale through his nose, the tears dried and he quickly walked down the hall. This library was not like Midgar. It had everything. Fiction, science, technology, history, theology, culture, and more. Contradicting opinions. Published cleaned datasets. Genealogical records. All of it housed under one roof. It didn’t make sense, but nothing about this world—or simulation—made sense.

And maybe he was being paranoid with the idea of a simulation, but when the old man spoke about bandersnatchers and then they fought those weird, giant creatures… That felt like a computer glitch. The way treated him and asked him questions through the door and over the phone also gave credit to this being a virtual simulation. It would be cheaper for Shinra to create digital voices, then create a fully functioning body. Like with any digital program, the more realistic, the higher the cost. And while Shinra could waste money in a way that seemed detrimental, they were also not above cutting corners for some basic procedures. Kunsel was more than certain Shinra actually owned the banks in Midgar, otherwise they would never get good investors. It was the only way to explain-

Okay. Stop it. Focus.

He really wasn’t sure what he was looking for at this point. There was so much information available, it was hard for him to figure out even where to start. Normally, he’d spent a few weeks carefully plotting out how to access one box or book at a time. Now… It was just here. A large portion—because Kunsel refused to believe that any kingdom to would so stupid secure safe stable as to put out all of their information—was here and he didn’t know where to start.

…I’m wasting time by being indecisive. Whatever is down the next hall, I’m going to start looking through.

It was a section on wildlife. Clearly, Minerva had a sense of humor that he was not entirely appreciating. He took a breath, pulled a book off the shelf, and started to skim through.

There are worse places to start. If my plan works, then I’ll keep going on missions and I’ll learn more about this world or simulation and hopefully…

Fuck. Which one would be better? A virtual simulation means I just need to break out and then get to Nibelheim. However, that also means that they are watching my every move. And anything I do could cause them to do something worse to Cloud and Zack. A different world means they’re safer in that regard. But I have to figure out how to get back… How the fuck does one even cross into another world? Science? Magic?

…

Well. I know the next two sections I’ll work my way throu-

…

…

What in the actual fuck?

Kunsel looked away from the book and looked at a table, and then down the hall, and then back at the book. The image was the same. As was the name. The giant, horned beasts were bandersnatches. On Gaia, they were Northern wolves. So, Kunsel had assumed they were wolves here. Not... not the beasts.

Shiva’s tits… What the fuck is wrong is wrong with this world? That’s not what a bandersnatch should be. Not at all. Why? Why? It’s not right not right not righ-

Stop. Stop. Focus. Focus.

Kunsel took a breath and sat down at a table. This was… good. This was good, because it was more proof that he was in another world. No way in seven hells would Shinra be so creative as to think up such a creature and give it the name of something that already existed… Hell, they probably couldn’t think up such a creature anyways. So-so it was good. It was fine. This was more information. And he could use any information. He took a deep breath and started to read the book in more detail.

He made it through eight books before heading back. It was zero four hundred hours when he slipped back into the apartment. Truly, the lack of security was astounding. Downright hilarious, if he let himself really think on it. This whole place was just… Kunsel wasn’t sure there was a word in any of the languages he knew that could describe what he was feeling. Because this wasn’t just a city. This was the capital of this land, with a King, and it had free information and clear-cut signs and-and it was open. It was so completely and utterly open and he didn’t understand. There had to be a catch. There had to be something else happening. No country could exist like this, especially in a time of war. And not when they had someone from another world-

Please, please let this be another world, so my actions won’t adversely affect Zack and Cloud.

-literally crash through a table and take up temporary residence. They didn’t even place a shock collar on him or have his hands bound with chains. He was questioned, but never fully interrogated--they didn't torture him so it wasn't a real interrogation. He hadn’t been hurt or abused. He was expecting the training sessions to devolve into a beating and they never did. He expected other guards to appear in his room at night—why else give him a nice bed—but it never happened.

He could be in his room and Ulric would just leave him alone. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. He should have… So much should have happened, and it was starting to make him wary. Nothing good lasted forever. It hardly lasted a moment. He just needed to focus and stay alert. The other shoe was going to drop and he wouldn’t be caught off guard.

***

“I’m here for Zelda.”

Kunsel glanced up to see a Kingsglaive he didn’t know.

“Under who’s orders?” Ulric questioned, moving between them.

“The Captain’s. He hasn’t got all day, so move it, Ulric. And you’re not required for this. Direct order.”

His guard grumbled an insult in his home language while this new one placed a pair of shackles on him. Kunsel wordlessly followed the guard back down to the interrogation cells. He was lead to a different area.

Drautos was inside with two other people he hadn’t seen before. The room was darker than the other interrogation room. A table with restraints was in the corner. Along with a water hose and piece of cloth. It was a familiar set up.

“…If you are the ‘soldier’ you claim to be, then this doesn’t need explaining. Under no orders are you to discuss what happens here.”

“Of course not, sir,” Kunsel replied with a polite smile. Finally, he actually understood what was going on. A little piece of normalcy in this weird as fuck world. Of course they would see if he could handle torture. He was out in the field now, sometimes, and anything could happen. While he and Zack had been severely undertrained before their first tour in Wutai, they had undergone a week’s worth of very thorough torture training. The front was a surprise. Nothing in the POW camp was.

He was strapped to the table. The cloth was put over his face. He held his breath and thought of his family.

***

“…What does Drautos want with you? He’s gotten you like four times in the last two weeks.”

Kunsel looked up to see Ulric leaning against the doorframe to the room they let him have.

“Simple questioning, Ulric. Nothing to be worried about,” he politely replied with a smile.

And it wasn't a complete lie. Drautos asked him about his world and how he arrived here. Some of the questions were more specific than what was initially asked, but it made sense they wouldn't be completely the same. Especially if he was trying to pretend to be a foreign agent. Ulric didn’t seem convinced and just stared at his sketches.

“What are you trying to draw?”

“Nothing. It’s just doodles,” he easily lied. It was the wharf. It was taken out years ago in a storm, along with a few shacks. His grandparent's house was still there. He had a contact check on it yearly.

“Right.” Ulric was pretty terrible guard; he had no inclination to hide his feelings. “…I’ve got food in the fridge and I’m feeling generous; I’ll heat you up a plate.”

“No thank you. I am not hungry.”

He probably should eat, but… he was not hungry. While they chose methods that didn’t leave marks, they certainly knew what they were doing. The Turks would approve. He would just wait for Ulric to go to sleep and eat before heading ou-

A bowl of rice porridge with beef was set down in front of him.

“…Urlic, I sa-”

“I heard you and I don’t care.” Ulric was staring him down from the doorframe “You didn’t eat lunch and you had bread for breakfast. Pretty much the same thing yesterday and the day before. I don’t what you’re trying to play at by not eating, but it will a pain in the ass to drag you down medical if you pass out. Eat.”

Kunsel sat down the pencil. His guard wasn’t moving.

…Eat. It’s an order. What you want doesn’t matter. It's never mattered.

Slowly, spoonful by spoonful, the food fell thickly into his stomach. When he was done, Ulric took the bowl away. Only after he heard the man go into his own room did Kunsel lay down on his bed and try to not be sick. He took deep breaths and waited for Ulric to go to sleep. He had to get back out to the library. There was so much he needed figure out, so he could get out of here and back to Cloud and Zack.

Chapter Text

The next week was both more and less tense in the apartment. Kunsel was far more conscious of how much he ate in front of Ulric and accepted that feeling sick was simply going to be a part of his routine. An annoyance, but hardly a real setback. And having both the sink and shower running was enough cover to him to throw up at least once an evening. Drautos didn’t ask for him at all during the week, which was strange. Five sessions hardly seemed enough for a torture training session—Shinra scheduled nine before he and Zack were deployed.

Between the absent torture training and newfound nausea, he was spending more time in his room, creating notes on his nightly research. There wasn’t a safe place to hide the notes, so he put them in plain sight, in his drawings. City street maps became mazes. Creatures and their information became stuffed animals-

“Yo. You’ve got training.”

“Yo, sweetheart. Let’s see if that SOLDIER trainin’ made ya any better.”

“Of course,” Kunsel replied with a smile.

It was the wrong time for training with another one of the Kingsglaives. And the gym was empty… Completely empty. This was more than wrong; it went against the rules. He had to have at least three guards on him at all times.

Am I supposed to question it? Or am I supposed to play along?

…Ulric knowns the rules and it doesn’t make sense for them to tell me about anything. I’m an enemy.

…

…

But if I am supposed to ask and don-

“-got it?”

…They were in the apartment.

“Of course, Ulric,” he replied with a polite smile.

Ulric rolled his eyes and walked into the bathroom. Kunsel waited for the lock before bolting to his room.

…Two hours…

…

Why does this keep happening? What is causing this?

Kunsel’s hands shook slightly as he set down the clock. Were they doing something to him? He lost far more time than he thought with the light… Was he being shown it again? Ulric had made more of the fo-

…

Are they poisoning me?

…But that didn’t completely add up either. These gaps occurred even when Ulric didn’t bother with food.

If I can get to a lab, maybe I can I do some tests. See if there’s something wrong with the food. The water…

Me.

…Fuck, I wish I had my Materia. A Cure could solve so much of this.

The magic was another area of this world that made little sense. From what he gathered it was completely different from Gaia. It wasn’t embedded into everyday life. He had only seen the military use it and even then… it was weird. They didn’t have Materia. And he… He couldn’t feel it. He was gifted with Matera and had private lessons with Commander Rhapsodos it was his main offensive weapon when blackmail didn’t work. To not be able to use it was thing, but not feeling it…

Simulation simulation simulation trap trap caught dead dead simulation trap trap trap trap Shinra simulation simulation trap dead dead dead dead dead dead dead failure failure failure

Kunsel sat down at the desk and started to plan his next few library trips…

And to find a way to get a small bug or camera.

***

This…

…

…

Do they want people to steal? Do they get a tax break if inventory goes missing?

Kunsel shook his head and grabbed the audio bugs and cameras.

He went back the next night and left a typed note of how to increase the security of the shop.

***

Magic was in two family lines.

Two.

The royal lines of Caelum and Nox Fleuret.

And other people could only use the magic if the King of Lucis agreed to let them borrow the powers. It all stemmed from a Crystal that was in possession of the Caelums. A gift from Bahamut.

Magic. A gift.

What was so intertwined with his world’s science and technology and history and energy and the Lifestream itself, was a gift here. A finite resource.

And he could not sense it.

Maybe they didn’t use magic. Maybe they simply used science. Physics. Astronomy. The President and Director Palmer were obsessed with the stars. Even Hojo was obsessed with the Northern Crater and meteor that caused it. They used Mako on us, but that was the sample. Everything else was used by technology. Science. I can work with that. I can learn that. I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that I can do that

***

Physics equations were tucked away into leaves of trees and the mythology of this world etched into book titles on a shelf, in a mash of Juno, Gongagan, Nibel, Corelian, and Wutainese were incorporated into his drawings. The symbols and letters drawn out enough to look like random lines.

If nothing else, this world is stretching my creativity. Progress. I just need to keep focusing on the progress.

…I’m going to get back. I’m going to get you both out. I promise, I’ll be dead before I leave you there.

***

Routine was supposed to be a comfortable thing. A stable thing. Something to fall back on when things were unpredictable.

His current routine made him feel like a lab rat. Day in and day out the same fucking things.

And he was nowhere closer to figuring out how to get back and save Zack and Cloud. Not with his limited resources.

So, he tried harder. He was more polite. More engaged in the training. He didn’t talk or engage with the others unnecessarily. He did everything perfectly to show the others that he was not a threat to them. That he was uninterested and only wanted to return to his world—which should be a priority for the Lucians. Who the hell wants to waste resources on a person with no connection or value to your kingdom? Who would want the possibility of an enemy appearing at random and with no way to return them—save for killing them-

Why haven’t they tried to kill me? It would make things easier for them.

—or prevent them?

“Let’s go, Kunsel! You’re working with Thatcher today.”

He didn’t know if training with this other guard group was a good or bad thing. Only time would tell. They weren’t going to their normal gym, but another across the way. It was the second time he’d sparred with Thatcher. The Crownsguard was a good fighter. He talked way too much, but never lost his rhythm. Along with the normal guards, there was Furia, Altus, and Vernon-Millers.

They were a covered walkway when all hell broke loose.

Black creatures swarmed them. Without a weapon, Kunsel had to be strategic. Restrict his punches. His kicks. Damage the creatures, but only just. He can’t let them know. He can’t. He just needs to be cautious. Careful. Like the fights out-

Blonde.

Spiky blonde ha-

Cloud.

Kunsel flung himself over Cloud.

Why are you here where is Zack he should be here with you us always you’re safe I’m here I’m here you’re safe safe safe saf-

A creature came forward and Kunsel pinned it with his legs. Cloud was safe in his arms. He’d always be safe here always always always always always always-

A sword touched his neck. He met the eyes of Marshal Cor Leonis.

“Let go of him.”

“Uh, Mr. Immor-Marshal-Sir-”

Not Cloud.

Kunsel looked—actually looked—at the teen in his arms. He was the same age as when they met Cloud. But he was not him.

He let him go.

People were talking.

He wasn’t listening.

Cloud wasn’t here. Cloud couldn’t be here. He was in the labs with Zack. In a tank. Or strapped down on a metal table. Wires running through him. Electricity burning his fingers. Knives cutting his bod-

“Kunsel.”

Ulric.

“Are you hurt?”

Ulric was in front of him. Khara and Ostium flanked him. Thatcher was close by.

The creature was being wrangled in a cage.

The teen was led away by another—Scientia. He wasn’t Cloud.

“I am fine, Ulric. I am fine.”

He wasn’t hurt. He continued to watch the creature. He wanted to ask what it was, but he knew better.

He had to be perfect. Play the game. Get back.

Zack. Cloud… I’m trying.

“Why did you go for the kid?” The Marshal’s eyes were harder than he had ever seen.

He’s at least fourteen. That’s not a kid.

“He was unarmed and by his clothes a civilian,” Kunsel said calmly and clearly. “I made the judgement that he would not know how to defend himself and moved to protect him. I couldn’t kill the creature and cover him at the same time, so I used my legs to hold it until the others could do something.”

The Shield of the King and Drautos appeared during his explanation. All three left without a word.

Kunsel didn’t know whether he admired or hated their poker faces.

***

“Deliberations are up.”

Kunsel looked over to Ulric, who leaned against his doorframe. There was a slightly different smirk on his face.

What deliberations?

“Due to your record of decisive and level-headed actions, the guards are reduced to just me. You’re welcome to go about the city as you want. Bands stay for now.”

“I will not let these actions cause regret, sir,” Kunsel replied with a smile that felt real. Ulric stayed for a moment too long—long enough for Kunsel’s heartrate to pick-up—but then the smirk changed, and he walked away.

Less guards means less suspicion. I can ask questions. I can go places. I could spend all day in the library. I can gather resources. It worked. It actually—something finally—worked.

Hang on guys. Just hang on a little longer.

Chapter Text

When he was first told that he was going to be a twenty-four/seven guard, Nyx wasn’t sure if this was a reward or a punishment or some weird combination. If he had to bet money, he’d go for the last option as that was usually the standard for Dratuos. The man was obsessed with his own definition of perfection and trying to get all of the Glaives there—never mind that each had their own unique strengths and weaknesses, but ‘happy leader, happy life’ or some bullshit like that.

So, he was stuck babysitting the stranger.

A weird ass, arrogant, and robot-esq stranger.

How else describe someone who refused to even have the most basic of manners? He never said anything unless you talked to him first. He gave the most vague and automated answers to everything. He didn’t try in training. He just… was there. Like a doll. Or he would drift off and not respond to people. Or carry with a task and blatantly ignore people. And it pissed him off. Didn’t this dumbass realize how much trust they were putting in him? He, literally, came crashing in from another world. And they didn’t have him a cell or some sealed off place. They had him out in the open and were letting him prove that he was just from another place, and not a potential spy.

Okay, some of what we’re trying is force him into making a mistake and mess up, but that’ll only happen if he’s hiding something. If he’s lying about being a spy for Niflheim. And… okay, maybe that’s part of the reason he’s so damn quiet and obnoxiously polite. He doesn’t want to fuck up… But it’s not like we’re fucking torturing him. If he’d let loose just a bit, then we’d have less to worry about and would just be able to… I don’t fucking know…

And really, what else could he think? He was guarding a potential spy from another fucking world.

Another world.

And that was something that… was both talked about a lot and yet it was not enough. It was obvious that his Majesty and the Big Three knew more than they were letting on—they were in charge, that was standard—but the fact that it’s been almost three months and they still didn’t know anything… How does something like this even happen? They were at a loss for words. A complete loss. The physics department and their own scientists work around the clock trying to find a way to send Kunsel back, or at least learn how he was able to go between worlds. His answers seemed genuine about not knowing, but… that just set more of them on edge. Why was he sent here? Was he even supposed to be here? Was he that good of a spy or was he just a pawn in another’s scheme? Nyx wasn’t sure what was worse. All he could really do was just… soldier on.

***

“Shouldn’t you be guarding the stranger?”

“Drautos has him again for questions,” Nyx shot back as he laid down on Pelna’s couch. “I’m good for at least three or four hours. Five if we’re lucky.”

“You sure this isn’t a punishment for something you did?” Crowe teased, setting down a beer.

“Hell, if I know.”

“Well, good to have you back for a while anyways,” Libertus said, giving him a solid hit to shoulder.

“Dick.”

“Jackass.”

“…And you wonder why you all get called ‘children,’” Kowalski muttered over own beer. Rico laughed from somewhere in the kitchen.

“Whatever, Uncle.”

Nyx smiled as he took in everyone milling about and grabbing snacks. It wasn’t often they all just got to relax outside of going to Julian’s.

It was nice.

“…Any updates you can share?” Pelna asked, sitting down close to him, with some fried rice balls.

“…He just mostly stays in his room and draws. Barely even comes out for food.”

“He’ll come out when he’s hungry,” Libertus said with chuckle. “What kind of idiot doesn’t eat?”

Nyx almost smirked, but caught R and K exchanging looks and then K looking at him. Nyx had been in medical enough times to know the look of doctor who heard a bad phrase. After about three hours of just doing nothing, the husbands made an excuse to leave, and Nyx ducked out with them.

“So, what’s up?” he asked after they were in their apartment.

“How often is Zelda alone?”

“…Pretty much all the time? As much as he can be anyways?”

Kowalski hummed and nodded.

“…And does he ever get out?”

“Training.”

“And that’s it?”

“…Yeah?”

The bar food started to feel like a brick in Nyx’s stomach.

“And he doesn’t really eat?”

“I mean, breakfast is a like a piece of toast and lunch is… is…”

…What does he eat for lunch?

“…This is not good, is it?” Nyx asked after a few minutes.

“…I don’t want to assume anything or jump the gun,” Kowalski started hesitantly, “but I would say that Zelda may be a touch depressed. You should keep a closer eye on him. Try to get him to interact or eat a bit more. You though he did well on the trip out to Hammerhead?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he was a good fighter. Not complete in step with the rest of us, but getting there.”

“Maybe try and see if you can get him out there again. And try to get him to eat more,” Kowalski said with a smile. “I don’t think any of us want to see him medical.”

Nyx nodded and headed back to Pelna’s.

“-not be surprised if the food act is a way to get us to let down our guard.”

“What are you on about, Luche?”

“Medical is far less guarded than here.”

…

…Fuck.

Nothing could be simple, could it?

***

After the unexpected daemon attack and Kunsel actually managing to capture one without harming it—and saving the Prince’s best friend at the same time—Nyx thought he might actually get to know his now more of a roommate and less of a charge.

He was incorrect.

While Kunsel did start to talk more, it was mostly to ask questions about Insomnia and Eos. He still spent most of his time drawing. His body language was completely unchanged. And… it was fairly annoying. Pelna and Libertus were trying to talk to him more. He basically had to drag him down to the Mess to get him to interact with anyone. Atticus stopped by more often to chat, but the answers were still the same. Vague and horribly polite. And… not everyone was extroverted, but if he was a part of an army before this, then he knew that knowing the basics of your comrades was important, if nothing else than for morale. But no, the damn stranger still kept up his damn shield.

A week after the declaration, they headed back out to Hammerhead. It wasn’t too bad of a mission—clearing up a few loose herds of beasts—and it gave them a break from the city. While Insomnians seemed to love their concrete jungle, Nyx and most of the Glaives preferred the rural areas.

“Still got shackles on ‘im?” Cid asked as he munched on a burger.

“Yeah. Can’t just let him completely loose, but it’s way less than what it was.”

The mechanic grumbled and they both watched the foreigner feed some of his burger to the stray dogs.

“Might wanna tell ‘im that he doesn’ need to do that. Everyone feeds them more than enough.”

Nyx watched the older man for a minute before making a confirming noise and nodding his head. Like the Big Three, Cid had an excellent poker face and always seemed to be a step ahead. He wondered what he thought of their wayward stranger. It couldn’t be completely positive, as Cindy wasn’t in town.

Nyx threw his wrapper into the trashcan as the last light of day gave way to darkness. He strolled over to Kunsel, who had gone from petting the dogs, to looking up at the sky. Nyx paused.

He always does that. Every time we’re out here, he’s always looking at the night sky.

…Does he like astronomy? Or astrology?

…

One way to find out.

“Come on, Kunsel. Let’s head on in.”

“Of course, Ulric.”

At least he dropped the ‘Mister.’

“Did you grow up with dogs? You seem comfortable around them.”

“It’s easy to get along with dogs when they’re friendly. They seemed very nice and eager for a snack.”

“They are a friendly bunch. The whole town takes care of the strays that wander in.”

“That’s good.”

They were close to the hotel. Everything was close in a place as small as Hammerhead.

“…Got an idea. You can say ‘no,’ if you want to.”

“What is the idea, sir?”

…Now to just get rid of the ‘sir’…

“You mentioned before that you can’t see the stars in city; so, you want to climb up on the roof and take them in for a bit?”

That caught Kunsel off guard. His shoes audibly shuffled on the pavement and he came to a stop by the burnt out light post. The hotel was the next building.

“That is… a very kind offer.”

“Thanks. You gonna take it or leave it? Makes no difference to me,” he said boredly, crossing his arms as he leaned against the brick wall. Kunsel weighed the question for about a minute before nodding his head. “Right. Follow me.”

They didn’t chat as they walked up the back fire-escape to the roof top. Nyx took off his jacket and made a makeshift pillow. Kunsel kept his own on and just used his hands. Nyx watched him out of the corner of his eye; his eyes seemed to scan the sky like a radar. He didn’t watch any one particular constellation for too long, before moving on to the next one. It was… weird. Star gazing was supposed to be chill. So why did everything feel tense?

Nyx gave it ten more minutes before the silence.

“Is star watching a hobby of yours?”

“…You can use them to navigate. The techniques were developed by sailors, long before using longitude lines, but they work well even on land. Know the stars and you know the way.”

That was the most Kunsel had ever said. Nyx almost didn’t know how to respond.

“Didn’t know that. So, tell me, which stars lead to where? Or your favorite constellation?”

“…I can’t. I don’t know these stars.”

It was barely a whisper, but it screamed inside Nyx’s head. He fully looked over to Kunsel and he looked at him. It was a split second—maybe even a fourth of a second—but Nyx didn’t see a soldier, a stranger, a weird smartass or even a young adult. He saw a kid.

“I swear to the Six, kid, if I see you anywhere near the C4 again, I’m going to have you peeling potatoes for a month.”

“Why is that the standard punishment? It’s not even that bad. Also, I’m literally twenty-six. I’m far past the ‘kid’ age.”

“Are you decently younger than me?”

“…You want me to call you old?”

“No, that’s my job.”

“You like ‘em old, Gentoo.”

“…Ten odd years of marriage should have killed the love-sick teen thing you both have.”

“Anyone who tells you that is unhappy in their own way. And Adélie is right; you are a kid to us, Osprey.”

…I’m an ass.

Forget them not knowing about another world.

Kunsel had been dropped from one world to another. And… Nyx had to remind himself to breathe. He didn’t have anything. Nothing and no one. The most basic things that you should be able to know, like the stars in the sky, were gone. Gods, he felt sick.

“…Okay. Well, do you see that star that’s just up from the mechanic shop? The really bright one?”

How was his voice so steady when his heart was slamming against his ribcage?

“Yes.”

“That’s the Northern Star. You can use it to go north. It’s all called the ‘Little Dipper.’ See how you’ve got some stars around it in a line? And then you sort of a bowl on the end? That’s a like a ladle. A dipper. And if you follow the Northern Star up, then you can find the ‘Big Dipper.’”

Kunsel nodded.

“Okay… I’m not the best at this, but if you go down and to the left, do you see that other bright star? It connects to a line and has another across. See? It’s right there,” Nyx said softly, using his finger to draw out the shape. “That’s Cygnus, the Swan. My people call her Odette. We have a whole story about her.”

He looked over to see Kunsel swallow thickly. His eyes were… were no longer shimmering.

What the hell?

“…Do you have that constellation?”

“No. No, we have bird constellations, but they’re eagles or ravens. Th-the name is familiar.”

He was looking at the star, not him.

“Yeah?” Nyx whispered. Talking any louder seemed sacrilegious.

“Yes,” Kunsel replied, just as softly. His eyes flickered down to him before returning to the Swan.

“…Well, that’s kind of nice. Some things can exist both places.”

Kunsel nodded and Nyx continued his explanation of the stars.

It was almost dawn before they went to sleep.

Chapter Text

He didn’t have time to think.

He just moved.

“Zelda!”

The blade slid easily into the Behemoth’s eyes. He ripped it out and slammed the second dagger deeper.

“Zelda! Down!”
He dove as Altius cast magic at the beast. He knew she would bring it down with Ostium, Lazarus, and a few others.

His concern was Khara. Who was bleeding. Bleeding badly.

“Kun—”

“Don’t talk.” He ordered out and applied pressure to the wound. He had to get the bleeding to stop. He had to. The injury was too close to a major artery. If he dies when Kunsel was near, there would be hell to pay. And Khara was a good source of information as he never shut up, so losing him would hinder Kunsel’s plans to return. And his eyes glittered like Zack’s when he laughed. He just needed to keep up the pressure. And get a tourniquet going. “Can you make a tourniquet?”
“Yeah.” Khara pulled off a belt and wrapped it around his leg. “Than—Mov—”
He couldn’t. It would hit Khara.

So, he let the tusk slam into him and send him flying.

His ears were ringing, and his teeth chattered from the impact.

…That wasn’t normal. He wasn’t hit hard enough for that. Why—

“Kunsel!” Ulric was by him. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck. Zelda, are you—”

“I’m fine.” He opened his eyes and—

Why was Ulric this concerned?

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit you—KMV! Medic!”

The chime noise sounded, and Miler-Vernon was near them. Kunsel let him do a concussion exam on him.

He was fine, of course. He was SOLDIER. He was fine.

“I think you need to be careful, but otherwise I can’t find anything wrong.” He put away the medical equipment. “I want you to get a CT scan we get back, though. Protocol.”

“Of course,” Kunsel lied, sitting up. He’d find some way to fake a scan.

“…How the fuck are you not concussion?” Ulric asked him as they were all walking back. Khara and Miller-Vernon were evaced earlier.

“We learn how to fall very early in our training. Prevention of injuries is a priority you learn earlier in Shinra.”

Because Minerva help you if you get injured in the field and there wasn’t enough supplies. There were never enough supplies. So, they learned how to fall safely. The enhancements obviously helped, but they still did what they could. Because, no matter how bad the injury, the mission came first. You had to be dead for it not to come first.

Hell, even then you still participated by others taking your pack and gear and clothes and boots. Everything mattered, except the men.

“Your fucking world,” Ulric muttered in Galahd. Kunsel kept his face politely neutral, but did send him a question look. His guard rolled his eyes. “…Thank you for keeping Pelna safe.”

“Of course. I am happy to assist in these missions wherever I can.”

Ulric grabbed his arm and forced both of them stop. Ostium turned to them, but Ulric waived him off.

“…You took a direct hit for him. With the way he was bleeding out, that hit could’ve killed him. You stopped the bleeding and managed to get him focused enough to make a tourniquet. You saved his life. That’s not an ‘assist.’ That’s above and beyond what anyone expected of you.” Ulric’s eyes were dark and sincere. Kunsel’s stomach flipped. “…He’s one of my best friends. He’s an amazing person and he’s okay, because of you. So, thank you. Seriously.”

“You’re welcome,” Kunsel said softly and… honestly.

Ulric smiled at him like he did two nights ago with the stars, and patted his shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

Kunsel hummed. With the how much excitement occurred today, Ulric would sleep heavily tonight, giving him more time to get the library. And finding a way back to them.

***

“Come on, Kunsel!”

Things were weird.

“Seriously, I know you’re not asleep. Let’s go!”

Incredibly weird.

It started when he and Ulric returned from Hammerhead. His guard was now… attentive. And he had been since Kunsel was forced to live with him, but this…

…This attention was… uncomfortable. It reminded him of the Turk trainings when he was a Third. You try to break a person down. Then make them think they’re useful. Then befriend them. Finally, take what you want. It wasn’t the exact same, but it was similar enough. At first, Kunsel assumed it was an unfounded sense of gratitude for what he did for Khara. But it had been three weeks and he had yet to fall back into routine. To his established behavior.

Instead, he talked to him. Tried to have actual conversations. To ‘get to know him.’ He made food; and actually, took notice of what Kunsel did and didn’t eat. There were always the peach-like fruits in the apartment. The others were trying to talk to him as well. Moreso than what they were doing.

“Kunsel!” He looked up from his notes as Ulric was in his doorway. “Keeping people waiting is rude.”

He smiled politely and closed his book.

“My apologies. I wanted to finish up the section.”

“Then shout back,” Ulric replied with a deadpan look and tone. Then, his eyes softened and became almost playful. “Come on. If the Big Three want to see you and we were given a few days in advance, then it’s not anything bad.”

That was a bullshit answer. Bad news could come in a variety of formats and giving someone a warning was a good way to let the fear and uncertainty settle. It was used in both the Wutai POW camps as well by the Turks. And general Shinra admin. Hell, even the fuckers who ran the foster homes and orphanages used the tactic.

At least he was prepared for anything. If things went truly south and they tried to cage or kill him, then he’d use his speed to get out. There were several places in the city he could take shelter in until nightfall and then getting out and away would be easy. There were so many flaws and weakness in their system it gave Kunsel secondhand embarrassment. To even be doing these performative missions and assisting without choice knowing that there were so many things in this country that could be improved on… It made him twitch. Granted, he exploited all of these weaknesses for his own gain, but still the point stands. They should be better.

The ‘Big Three’—Cor Leonis, Clarus Amicitia, and Titus Drautos—were sitting in a conference room. Nyx didn’t come in with him, but waited outside with Ackers and another Crownsguard; Ceres Severna. He walked over to them, but kept a respectful distance between them, and remained standing.

Whatever punishment awaited him, he was prepared.

“Kunsel Zelda, over the last six months you have proven to be most cooperative during this unprecedented time,” Shield Amicitia started after staring at him for a minute and thirty-four seconds. Kunsel didn’t nod but waited. “You’re recent action of unprompted selflessness and self-sacrifice have been noted. We are willing to further extend some trust.”

Leonis approached him and removed the last of the cuffs.

…What?
“You are no longer a prisoner of Insomnia.”

What?

Kunsel only partially listened as they laid out what he could and could not do if he claimed refugee status here in the Capital. It was… quite the performance. And an unnecessary one. Where was he going to go if he left? He couldn’t return to his world not yet. He had nowhere to go… to…

Oh. Oh… This was clever.

By giving him the choice, they held several cards. If he were to leave the Lucians lands, then he most likely would be classified a spy depending on which land he chose to settle in. They’d attempt to find him and bring him in for torture and questioning. The same route would occur if he claimed the status, but didn’t work for the Kingsglaives. Or they’d force him back into the role. So, his only option was to claim refugee status and continue being a grunt for them. From their perspective, giving him more freedom would also give them a chance to catch him lying.

They never would. He knew these games well.

‘Working’ for them would be fine. He’d be able to continue to access the resources he needed and gain more information on why he fell into this world in the first place. He hadn’t forgotten the strange magic that knocked him almost six months ago. He needed work more understanding why it worked against his Mako.

And it explained part of Ulric’s behavior. He was working into their scheme to keep him around and get his guard to drop. He wouldn’t make the mistake. Not… There would be another ‘star’ moment. Not unless he could gather information from Ulric. Or another. That night… That was a mistake. He was… It was a mistake.

“…I understand all that is being said sirs. I would be happy to continue my work, if that is allowed.”

***

“First time out at night, right?”

Kunsel blinked and looked over to Khara, who was in a wheelchair. While he’d been cleared earlier in the day, he wasn’t fully on his feet yet.

“Pelna’s been cleared, so we’re going to get kababs. Also, consider this a small welcome, before the big party when we welcome all the new Glaive recruits next month.”

“I don’t believe I count—”

“Shut up and enjoy the free meal and booze.”

“Yes,” he replied with a smile. The kebab stall was tucked away in one of the city’s poorer parts. Certainly not a slum like the Underplate, but still quite poor. But it was warm. Alive. It was like visiting Kalm; it was lively, but nothing incredibly important was happening. “I’m glad to see you’re recovering.”

“All thanks to you,” Khara said with a smile and tapped his glass against his own. The booze wasn’t bad, but it certainly wouldn’t have the effect he’d like it to have. “Thank you. And… how the fuck did you move like you did? Your reflexes are something I’ve only seen with people who’ve got a decade on you.”

“I am not green.”

“Of course not,” Khara said with a snort, clearly not believing him. He looked like he wanted to say something else but ended up shaking his head and giving him a more inquisitive look. “What have you done in the last six months? You haven’t gone out with us once. And you never come down to the Lounge for any game or movie nights. So… what do you do to unwind in the apartment?”

Of course, they’re all in on it. Idiots. I’ve already agreed to being used by you.

“I read,” Kunsel stated, and Khara raised an eyebrow, clearly wanting more. “I stretch. Meditate. Review notes for fighting styles—”

“That is not unwinding,” Ulric said passing another plate of food over. “Unwinding is like the doodles you’re obsessed with. Or astronomy.”

“You like astronomy?”

Fuck you, Ulric.

“I enjoy stargazing,” he evenly replied. He couldn’t deny it. But he could redirect. “Is this a normal night out for you all?”

“Pretty much,” Khara said, smiling with his whole face as he glanced over to the others sitting at the table. “It’s one of the few Galahd establishments around, so we like getting back to enjoy some home cooking. Even if it has been tweaked for Insomnia palates.”

“Fuck off, Pelna!”

He snickered at the cook’s harsh words and held his hands up in surrender.

“Anyways, if we’re not here, then we’re over at Julian’s. The Groggy Morrow. Best damn bar in town.” He stretched slightly and looked down as the music below them changed and a street dance broke out. “…Sometimes we get out to some of the clubs when we feel like blowing some gil on the cover charge and way too expensive booze. There are some great dancing places though. One of the best clubs isn’t too far from the Citadel, actually. They have great specials which makes it a favorite.”

Made sense they’d have an official Honeybee Inn.

“So… drawing, reading, and astronomy…”

Please, don’t.

“…They’re normal activities.”

“I’m not judging.” Kunsel forced himself not to do a doubletake at Khara’s serious tone. “I’m not that kind of asshole. I’m just… you are not an easy person to figure out.”

“I think I’m simple.”

“Bullshit. But, I’ll let you keep it for now,” the other said with ease. He took a drink and gave him a wink. “…So, are there any differences in genres between the worlds?”

“Not really… the basic story structures are the same. It’s just the content differs.”

“Really? No major differences?”

“Not that I’ve noticed…” Kunsel took a drink to buy him a minute. What point was he trying to make?

“…That’s kind of nice, to be honest.”

How?

He actually voiced the question. Khara looked surprised, then his eyes turned soft. Like… like Hewley’s used to. He wanted to rip them out.

“It’s gotta be nice to know that people are pretty much people. Even if things are different.”

That’s…

…

Oh.

Oh, they are good. It was the same line Ulric used on him.

Fine. Try it that way.

He wasn’t going to be here for much longer.

He had to get back to Zack and Cloud.

Chapter Text

“Kunsel! Come here for a minute!”

“Kunsel! You’re coming to dinner with us!”

“Kunsel! Spar with me today!”

The familiarity was going to drive him to violence.

“…You could try and say ‘no.’ I promise, it won’t kill them.”

No. More than the familiarity of the Kingsglaives, it most likely would be Ulric that drove him to violence. Pure, unadulterated, blissful, mind-numbing violence.

“I believe I am to get to know my fellow Glaives, Ulric,” Kunsel calmly replied, lacing up his boots. “Since I am to join you all properly within the next week.”

“Yep. You know a great way to get to know people? Using their first names.”

The fuck I like you people that much.

“I think it could come in time, Ulric.”

“Prickly bastard,” his guard responded, but there was no heat in his voice. His eyes were light.

“Kuuunnnnssseeeeellll.”

“Yes, Zac—Fuck!”

“Hahaha!”

“Let go!”

“Never!! Let’s go bombard Seph’s office! He needs a new surprise!”

“Fucking hell. Don’t drag me—ZACK!”

“Technically, I’m carrying you.”

“Well, I’m certain some of that will be knocked out of you today. Have fun training!”

“Not coming?”

“Fuck no. It’s my day off and Pelna’s coming over. My ass is on the couch unless something breaks through the Wall.”

Kunsel hummed in response and left to go to the training hall. While most other soon-to-be Kingsglaives were given the week off to prepare their uniforms and send word to families that could be present. He already had a uniform, and his family was trapped in hell, so he continued to train.

“Oi! Kunsel!”

Today’s overly friendly and horrible trainer was one Libertus Ostium. Short tempered and deceptively strong; he’d be the perfect pawn to use if it wasn’t for his suspicious nature and steadfast loyalty. The paw of a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Haha! Time to learn a new trick!” Kunsel smiled politely at the doorbull of a man. It was almost… No. It wasn’t ‘almost anything,’ because he hadn’t been this homicidal since he found the first audio file of Zack and Cloud.

…And the man still hadn’t fucking said what the ‘new trick’ was—

He was gone.

No.

Not gone.

…

…

…

Invisible?

These fuckers can turn invisible?

For the first time, Kunsel had to actually fight back a grin. Because this? This was interesting.

He focused on Ostium’s heartbeat but kept his eyes off him. He was doing a good job of controlling his breathing, but the unmistakable hum of magic—didn’t matter Kunsel couldn’t use it, he still could feel it—coupled with his own senses meant he knew exactly where the other was. It was definitely a useful skill; and it told him more about Ostium.

Kunsel slowly paced, keeping Ostium just to his periphery. He just needed to wait for him to—

The punch landed firmly on his shoulder. He slammed his fist into Ostium’s side and let him dance away. He felt the brush of a fist and ducked and roll away. Another hit. Another dance. Kunsel waited five more times before he grabbed a handful of Ostium’s shirt and slammed him into the ground before pinning him.

“Okay. Okay! Made your point, Kunsel!” He let Ostium recall the magic before letting him go. Ostium sat up and measured him. Then, a ridiculous grin overcame his face. “You’re not half bad, are you?”

“Thank you.”

“Prickly fucker,” Ostium grumbled. “So, magic here can be leveled in a few different ways. Most of us use it to teleport and draw on the elements. I’m a bigger fan of the old disappearing trick.”

“It’s certainly useful and tricky. One would have to know you well to guess your movements. Or get lucky.”

“And which are you?”

The hairs on his arm didn’t rise. But his stomach clenched.

“Zelda?”

“Hello, sir.”

“No need to call me ‘sir’ when we’re off duty.”

“Of course… No. No, can’t do it Commander.”

“Not that familiar, yet?”

“Of course not, sir. Simply…”

Of course, it was familiarity. It didn’t make the betrayal hurt any less.

“Lucky, of course,” Kunsel calmly replied. “…And you favor your left.”

“Oh fuck, do not tell Nyx that,” Ostium groaned out. “He’ll never let me live it down…”

Kunsel filed that away. It wouldn’t get him much, but every bit helped. Goddess knew he spent years tracking down, saving, and filing away every ounce of information he could get his hands on. Not that it mattered in the end. He couldn’t even get out the fucking city before they grabbed him and stored him away. Before they threw him here and it’s been… Seven months. Seven fucking months of no godsdamned progress—

“I wish I had notes for you, but I don’t. You… How did they train you? You’re people.”

“I’m no longer associated with them,” Kunsel corrected. “And we were trained in all areas of a combat, and then took extra training in the areas we excelled at. I was balanced between most of the areas. Weapons, hand to hand, and magic. I wanted to be balanced.”

Had to. Zack needed me to be. Cloud needed me to be.

“No special areas?”

…He really, really want to be aloof. Vague. But, that wasn’t how you got in.

“…I enjoy knives. The versatility.”

“No wonder you took off with the kukris,” Ostium said with a shake of his head. “Ever thought about asking Nyx for extra training. He’s basically a prodigy at them. Determined as hell. A bit of a hothead—pot, kettle, black, I get it—but still, he’ll help you out. Just gotta ask.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Ostium.”

The fuck he’d ever admit to being weak. It was never said, but he knew his strength and intelligence—or what little he showed—was one of the reasons he was allowed this ‘freedom.’ No true power would ever let someone like him disappear or be off a leash. Didn’t matter that the shackles were gone. They thought he was theirs. And if that’s what they needed for him to gather the resources to find a way back, then so be it.

“…You’ve never asked us for extra training.”

“I wasn’t in a position until recently,” Kunsel politely replied. “I mean no disrespect. You all were more than fair. Especially when considering the circumstances.”

And it was an honest reply. Even the torture training was mild compared to what the Turks did to him when he was a Third.

“And now?”

There it was again. The questioning tone that made him want to shove a knife into someone and get answers.

“…I am not opposed to learning more.”

Ostium didn’t look happy.

“Come on, I want you to take a walk with me.”

Well, if that wasn’t code for a beating, he didn’t know what was.

“Of course, Ostium.” The man leveled him a flat look and all but fastened his arm around his shoulders.

Ostium led him out of the training hall. They walked until they reached one of the smaller libraries. Ostium walked him to a table that had a map laid out on it. A map of a chain of Islands.

“This is Galahd. Looks mysterious and grand on the paper, doesn’t it?”

“Most things can be made grand on paper, whether through drawing or words,” Kunsel softly replied, thinking of the books that talked about Old Junon and its people like they were magical entities. Far off and unreal. Never mind the fact that they were still living and breathing. It didn’t matter that there were less than fifty left. They weren’t dead.

“Yeah. Yeah, it can.” There was a statement and question in the man’s eyes. “Unfortunately, these old things leave out the important bits. It doesn’t tell you where to get the best skewers. Or whose door is always open. Which store has the best candy and books.”

Where to hide.

Even though Junon was small enough to be drawn in terrifying detail, there were things outsiders could never draw about it. And they weren’t the emotional things that Ostium referred to. It was the land itself. There were dozens of crevices and crags in the cliffs. Underwater caves you could dive into. Coves hidden by jagged rocks and high tides. He never went back, but… he could find them again. He knew he could. He knew it.

“…Looks a whole lot different now. The bombings tore up the coastline and the land.” Ostium pointed to a village. “This is a lake now. And the mountain range is cut in half. And there’s now a river forming between these villages. It’s… it’s a bitch. The Kingdom can’t delegate more resources to assist with the rebuilding; they’ve done well, but we basically have to recreate our infrastructure from the ground up.”

Of course. It was like all the ‘promises’ Shinra made to Correl. Rocket Town. Banora.

They were never going to fix these places. They offered no strategic value or great resources. Instead, they’ll string along these soldiers until the war was over and then they’d either trudge home to live hovels and reclaim what little they could still find or they’d be so brainwashed they’d let their home live and fade into memory while claiming success in their self-made prison.

Or they’d find a way to kill them.

Far more efficient as the Crown was going to be debt and pensions and benefits were easily erased cost. Especially when most had no family.

“Most of the Glaives are from Galahd and other war-torn regions. His Majesty will most certainly you’re all taken care of. It is the least that can be done for frontline soldiers.”

“You are SOLDIER. Do well and feel the rewards of Shinra.”

“Yeah. Just… It’s tough. It’s really tough somedays.” Kunsel tilted his head in interest. Of course, the emotional man took the bait. “Well, imagine its your home all messed up. Been that way for fifteen years. And I know it’s not as bad as when we left; hell, I went home a few weeks ago and saw improvement, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough and for what all of us give the Kingdom…”

He shook his head and kicked the ground. Kunsel weighed his options carefully. Because there were two scenarios at play. One, Ostium was truly being a fool and airing his grievances against the Lucian Kingdom. Kunsel could try and needle him more to gather more information. With his emotional disposition, he would be an easy asset to burn. However, with how careful the Lucians had been, this mostly was a chance to catch him engaging in traitorous behavior or language.

“Well, I’m certain some of that will be knocked out of you today. Have fun training!”

“…I think it will work out. Faith is important.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Ostium gave him a crooked smile and clapped his shoulder. Hard.

Message received.

Ostium talked to him while they returned to the training hall. They did a few more drills before he could finally return to the apartment.

And, of course, Khara was still there. They were both on the couch watching…

…

…

Painting.

A man was talking calmly and quietly and walking them through how to paint a landscape of a mountain. Kunsel kept the TV in his line of sight as he got some water and a small snack. The man was discussing the foliage. It was like…

…

…

It wasn’t like anything. Nothing.

Kunsel had never witnessed something like this before. There was no show on Gaia that remotely was like this. Calm and quiet. And… Kunsel leaned more on the counter and watched the man. Clearly, there was a lot that could be done postproduction. He’d spend days watching Shinra’s PR team work on commercials, posters, and TV programs. Millions of gil spent on creating program after program that slowly and effectively made the population dependent on Shinra.

Bu this? This… Slow. Slow, but calculating. There were awkward pauses. Messed up dialog.

…

…

…

Why were they watching it? It was just someone painting. Painting and talking. Did they know the man? They must have known the man, otherwise there was no reason. They didn’t paint. Neither of them. He completely tore through their rooms a week ago and there was no evidence that either one of them enjoyed any artistic pursuits—

“Do you want to sit down?”

He looked at Khara. Both of the Kingsglaives were looking at him.

“I am fine. Thank you,” he said politely, picking up his water and…

…his food was gone.

He looked back to the television… and the now mostly completed painting.

Kunsel walked with purpose to his room and quickly closed the door.

He fought down the blush as Khara and Ulric snickered quietly.

What the fuck is wrong with you? You have to do better. They need you to do better.

Kunsel shakily let out a breath and grabbed a notebook.

He had work to do, because Cloud and Zack needed him.

Chapter Text

“…Why are things always complicated with you?”

“They have been very normal for everything outside of this one area,” Kunsel smoothly countered, staring up at the hospital ceiling.

“Right,” Ulric drawled out. Kunsel glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes in time to see the… the worry?

Why are you…

…

…

An act. You’re an actor.

“…Am I allowed to be a Kingsglaive still?”

“Uh, yeah?” Ulric gave him a funny look. “Listen, you’re not the first who wasn’t compatible with King’s magic. You may have… rejected it more strongly, then most, but you’re not the first. Hell, you’re not even the first who’s been totally knocked out. There’s a reason there’s not too many of us.”

Kunsel hummed and nodded. He’d been in the hospital room for about five hours and conscious for the last two. The usual three had questioned him, but there was little to say. Magic in this world wasn’t like the magic on Gaia. Truthfully, he had expected a far longer session, but they appeared to take his responses at face value. Given that magic was selective… him not being receptive could actually work in his favor. If he had been a spy or more of a designed weapon, then being able to use magic would make sense. His not being able to use magic added weight to his claim of being from another world. And they believed that they had an advantage over him.

…Truly, it could be far worse.

“Should I check out now?”

“Not yet.” Kunsel sat up slightly to see Dr. Lorelei Harlow Matilda, one of the main physicians for the Kingsglaives. “I’d like you stay here for at least the rest of the day, if not overnight. I haven’t seen anyone reject the magic like that before and I wish to monitor your condition and ensure there are no lingering effects.”

“Of course, doctor,” Kunsel politely responded. Ulric raised an eyebrow before shrugging.

“Let me know when I can pick him up, Tilly.”

“I can walk back to the Barracks without an escort, though I appreciate the—”

“If you appreciate the effort, then accept it,” Ulric shot back without looking at him. “Give me a text, Tilly.”

“…Zelda, would you like Nyx to escort you home after you’ve checked out?”

Kunsel knew that these small tests would happen constantly to try and trip him up. It was a standard technique.

It didn’t make it any less annoying.

“I will send you send a text, Ulric.”

His guard raised an eyebrow, but finally left.

“Well, how are you feeling?” the doctor asked, taking a seat next to him.

He smiled politely and played the game of describing how he felt with just enough weakness to warrant staying while being well enough to be left alone.

Once the doctor left, Kunsel sunk into the pillows and closed his eyes. And started to review. The magic that the King attempted to bless him with had the same results as the Light that was shown to him during his first few weeks, but the process of getting there was different. It wasn’t as blinding and nauseating. It rattled his bones and made the Mako in his veins turned to fire, but… It wasn’t the same. The way he felt… It was different. Less… invasive. It was like the opposite of the Lifestream. Where exposure of from Mako or the Lifestream made his body light and strong all at once, this magic weighted him down. Suffocated him.

He needed more information. Information that the books and reports couldn’t afford him.

Kunsel needed to do tests on his body.

Because the magic here had to be part of the reason he was stuck. Magic was sown into their world and a limited resource here.

And he knew that they drew some blood after he passed out. And being here overnight was the perfect time to conduct the tests. After all, they had all the equipment he would need—

“Kunsel! Are yo—Oh fuck.”

That’s my line.

Kunsel opened his eyes and rolled his head over to see Altius, Furia, and Thatcher walk in.

“Sorry, Kunsel,” Altius said, wincing theatrically. “We can go—”

“It is fine. I am awake,” Kunsel said, sitting up.

Since their last mission together, Kunsel had dove more into Thatcher’s background. For the most part he was an average guard. An average guard whose only noteworthy quality was his uncle; Astrum Thatcher, a world-renowned physics professor, who even had respect from Niflheim. If there was a chance to learn more about the professor—and find a way to use him and his work to return to Cloud and Zack—then he wasn’t going to let it pass him by.

“We wanted to check in and see how you were,” Altius said, walking more into the room.

“I’m well.”

“Oh fuck,” Thatcher said, sitting down on the bed, his eyes going comically wide. “Might want to get the doc Birdy. He’s using contractions.”

Alius and Furia snickered. Kunsel… decided to show a little bit of annoyance, which made all three of Eosians laugh. Good. If he was to get close enough to the professor, then he would need to fake a bond with Thatcher. Which, unfortunately, meant that he would have to ‘bond’ with the other two. They were a package deal.

“Cloud! Cloud Cloud CloudCloudCloudCloud!”

“Hi Zack. Bye—Zack!”

“Haha! Got ‘im, Kuns!”

“Aw, don’t pout Cloudy. It’s a nice surprise!”

“I do not believe you.”

“It’s really not that bad, promise.”

“…I believe you more.”

“Why? Cloudy, I knew you first!”

“And?”

“Cloud, I’m not handling the puppy-dog eyes all night. Just apologize.”

“Absolute…ly…”

…

…

…

“…Dammit.”

“Hahaha! I win!”

“Aw, don’t pout—”

I do not pout.

“—you’re brain’s scrambled.” Thatcher’s grin dipped a bit. “You are okay, yeah?”

“I am fine.”

“Good, cause I was hopping to talk to about something.” Kunsel sat up straighter and waited for the man to continue. “…I know you’re a stickler for protocol, so I’ll be upfront; I cleared this with Leonis, Shield Amicitia, and Captain Drautos. One of my uncles is a physicist. He specializes in studying the structure of our galaxy along with black hole and wormholes stabilization theories. I don’t know what’s all been done on trying to see if you can get home, but, if you want to, I’d happy to introduce you to him. I can’t make any promises that he’ll be able to help, but I know he’d love to talk to you. So… what do you say?”

What did he say?

…What could he say? Because this…

This shouldn’t be happening.

They shouldn’t just… offer up something like this. Giving him a chance to access this knowledge…

There had to be an angle. There was always an angle. Something… something he needed to know about. Learn.

“…Kunsel?”

Fuck. Fuck.

“Apologies. I… Yes, I would like to meet with your uncle. Thank you for… for this incredibly generous offer,” Kunsel said politely and gratefully. Because he needed to show that. Maybe it was the wrong response, but he could sort out how he’d pay for this later. For now, he needed the access to the information.

Because it had been almost seven months.

Seven. Months.

He… he couldn’t waste more time. They were being hurt. Being mauled and maimed every. Fucking. Day.

And he needed to stop it.

Because no one else could. No one else would.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

What?

He looked up to the three who all had… gentle and soft faces. Kind. They were pretending to be kind.

“We’ll figure out a way to get you home.”

Like fuck you idiots could do that.

“I appreciate the assistance.”

That seemed to close the topic and the three talked amongst themselves with marginal crumbs thrown out to him. This continued for another eighteen minutes and forty-seven seconds before Dr. Hagan returned and asked them all to leave so he could rest.

“Hey, just one last thing.” Kunsel looked up to Thatcher. Furia and Altius had already left. “I know you’re a Glaive, but you can come over and say ‘hi’ to the Guard. We work on missions together. It’s not forbidden.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Kunsel lied smoothly. While his investigation of the capital hadn’t revealed any outright rules against the mingling of the two groups, he was aware of the intricacies of the different departments. The only reason he was ever allowed to get… to think he was close to the Turks, was because they could use him. That was it. “Again, thank you for your offer. I look forward to meeting your uncle.”

“No problem. And if you ever want to train a bit—”

“Oh, fuck no. He’s a Glaive. You can’t steal him.”

“Come on, birdy, it doesn’t hurt to learn new things…”

***

“Good morning, Kunsel! I am Astrum Thatcher, at your service! I’m so pleased to see you! Please, sit! Sit! Now, I have several questions for you, but you please interject at any point. Now, I understand that this world’s composition is different from yours, especially in terms of magic, but I am curious if there are other major differences. I’m thinking our atmosphere, rate of gravity, density, and such. I would appreciate yourcooperationinrunningafewteststoseeifwecanunderstandthefulldifferencesandsimilaritiesandthenwecanbeginworkingthroughhowtheymayhavebridgedthedivideoftheworlds…”

…

...

...

Why is every person in this world so fucking weird?

…Whatever. As long as I can get back to Zack and Cloud it doesn’t matter.

Chapter Text

“Pretty boy!”

Kunsel automatically looked over to Ulric. And hated himself for responding before the other finished talking.

“Yes, Ulric?” he inquired as the other leaned on his shoulder.

“So, bad news first. We’re not paired up for this mission—”

This is excellent news.

“—and you can cry on my shoulder about it later—”

Murder is a middle option, not a first choice.

“—Good news is that you’re with Michael and Fred for the scouting!”

…Of fucking course he’d get fucked one way or another.

Kunsel moderately tolerated Lux. The Kingsglaive was more aligned with intel. Quiet. Had an edge. In another life, Kunsel could’ve found a way to form an alliance with them. In this one, he didn’t have the luxury. Not with Cloud and Zack needing help.

And Salvus…

“Hello! I’m Winifred Salvus. Call me Fred or I’ll scream at you.”

“…Will you actually, Win—Oh, Shiva’s tits, shut up!”

“Mph!”

“You owe me, Axel. And Freddie, don’t glare, they’re clean socks.”

Well, she was from the intel sector and was working with them on this mission. Kunsel was well aware that if she was intel, then she had to have more Turk qualities than she was letting on. Her charade was similar to what Reno did. Loud and bombastic movements and voice to distract from her actual goal.

Clearly, one of those goals was to monitor him while did most of the work on the scouting mission. This was his first mission to an actual fight and not just clearing out monsters. It was supposed to be a quick guerrilla tactic. Hit the small encampments that were sustaining the longevity of the Norduscaen Blockade, so a larger force could take it and establish safe travel between the regions. While it may not have been the best military target to shorten the war, it was one that would allow for increased aid to civilians and the Hunters. It was the ‘humane’ target that would allow the war machine to continue to turn, so they could reap the profit.

Beyond monitoring him, Salvus most likely had a personal mission or two to obtain intel from Niflheim, and working with the Kingsglaives would allow her to move around more freely. Or she was trying to gather information within the ranks. He was still parsing out if Ostium’s words had been a true test or not. And if they were not, then that kind of dissonance warranted an intel officer monitoring the situation and either reeducating or eliminating the source.

“Thank you for letting me know, Ulric.”

“Wow.” They both looked over to Salvus, who was leaning on the doorframe. “And I thought we took our missions seriously.”

“Oh no. This is just Kunsel.”

“…Wait. You call everyone by their last names? All the time?”

“It is polite,” he said, standing up. He walked forward and held out a hand. “Pleased to formally meet you, Salvus. I look forward to working with you.”

She raised an eyebrow, but shook his hand.

“We leave at zero two thirty. Bring your good boots, since it’ll be a hike.”

“I attended the briefing. I will see you then. Ulric.” Kunsel politely sidestepped Salvus and left the tent.

“…I though Xander was joking about him.”

“Nope.”

“Hmm… well, I’ll keep an eye on him and bring back what intel I can.”

“Thanks, Fred.”

Kunsel rolled his eyes at the idiots, before finding a quiet spot in the ruins. He had dozens of email updates to read from the professor about their work.

***

Fuck.

“Shi—Zel—”

Fuck.

Kunsel grabbed Salvus and hauled them behind a rock. Lux was already there.

“Oh fuck, this bad.”

“No shit,” Salvus bit out, messing with the earpiece.

It wasn’t going to work. They cut comms five minutes ago and Kunsel had been tuning out the static ever since and trying to focus on what he could hear from the Niflheim soldiers.

Because this wasn’t a counterattack. It was a trap.

A full blown, planned trap.

She ripped it out with a frustrated growl, “I can’t get anything but static.”

“Comms are our third priority. We need to cut a hole through their line so Ulric and Altius can get to Ceres’s squad—”

“And combine the magic to blast out the daemons,” Salvus finished. She glanced at the barrage of magic, weapons, and monsters. “…Any way you can warp us through that, Lux?”

“I can get through the debris, but with one of you…”

What’s the point of fucking powers if you don’t develop them for these situations?

“What about the rocks?” They looked at him. He focused on Lux. “Can you warp with Salvus using the rocks and cliffs?”

They followed his line of sight toward a small encampment that had several crates.

Crates of weapons.

“…Hunker down and I’ll—”

“I’ll follow.”

Lux and Salvus slowly nodded.

Kunsel was never a Commander.

That didn’t mean he didn’t know how to speak like one.

The MTs immediately homed in on the magic trace, which left plenty of dust coverage for Kunsel to move freely. He hadn’t used his full abilities in eight months and getting to stretch his legs was a silver lining amongst the artillery and anguished screams.

…If you were here, we’d tear through these fuckers. This would be nothing.

He landed near some of the MTs an—

…

…

…

They had heartbeats.

They had heartbeats, but they. Were. Not. Human.

Their eyes—

“Zelda, tell Zack I’m sorry.”

He crumbled its head into the ground. And crushed it until sludge poured from the crevices.

No. No.

Focus.

Focus. Get to the others.

He found them near—

“Is that… an assault ship?”

There was a phrase from the show that Ulric and Khara liked to watch: There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.

It was so naïvely sweet and disgusting it made Kunsel want to burn something. Anything.

He was starting to understand it. Slightly. In this singular and specific context.

“It is,” Kunsel confirmed quietly.

“Okay, let’s—”

“Let’s take it.”

Both froze and stared at him.

“…What?”

“The guards who should be monitoring it are out fighting. With the way they’re all dug in, we’ll need heavy firepower.”

“I’m sorry, when did you learn to fly an aircraft.”

“As a cadet.”

“Ha—wait, what? Are you serious?”

“I don’t lie.” Kunsel let a small smile form and he knew Zack would call his eyes ‘terrifying.’ “And I’m an excellent shot.”

***

“You got an assault ship.”

It was the seventh time Ulric had repeated the statement.

“It was a team—”

“You made the call to get it.” Ulric grabbed him and shook him slightly. “You… an assault ship?”

“Yes. We needed the firepower. And now, we have access to their technology.”

“…A fucking airship.”

Huh, who would’ve thought? A display of actual competency breaks idiot brains.

Kunsel smiled politely at Ulric and walked around him. Several people clapped him on the shoulder or back as he made his way through to the main tent of the Captain, to give his report. He made a note of each and every person. The emotion in their eyes. Their body language. What they said and how they said it and what they didn’t say. And he noted who did not come up to him. And those who acknowledged him from a distance. Everyone. He was making mental notes of everyone.

Because there was a mole.

There was a fucking mole. And. He. Didn’t. Know. Who. It. Was.

Moles meant wasted resources.

And he didn’t need to be caught up in more pointless endeavors when Zack and Cloud needed him. He didn’t need the scientists being commandeered to the war department.

“Sir.”

Drautos looked up from paperwork over supply chain movement as Kunsel entered the tent and walked over to the desk. He held out his report.

“I’ve also submitted it to Marshal—”

The report was snatched out of his hands and tossed aside.

“Who do you think you are?” the Captain growled out. Kunsel forced some fear into his eyes. “On what grounds do you think you have the authority to order the capture of an enemy vessel?”

“I made a decision in the moment, sir. I know that I have no authority—”

“That is correct.” Kunsel closed his mouth. “You have no authority. You are a refugee. A refugee who’s only here at the mercy of the Crown.”

“…I understand, Captain.”

“…No defense? No argument for your actions?” Drautos bit out.

Fuck.

What was he supposed to do? Argue now? Would that make him look weak? Should be silent? Or was that insubordinate? He—

“Sir, if I may?”

Salvus walked into the tent. She looked serious and mature. Like a Turk.

“Agent Salvus.”

“Zelda’s call was off-script and out of bounds. However, by acquiring the airship, we were able not only to regroup and push off the Niflheim troop, but fully break the blockade. This route is open for the first time in four years. I have orders from Director Muzaka concerning this matter.”

She glanced at him in a matter that very much signaled that he should leave. He waited until Drautos dismissed him. There was a promise of pain and retribution in his eyes. That was fine. It had been around two months since the last torture training session. Maybe they’d show more than the standard waterboarding and beatings. Hell, they hadn’t even done anything with hot pokers yet. Reno blistered his leg during their second session; but that had been as much of a test for Reno as it had been for Kunsel.

Now… now, he needed to get ready to follow the troops. They’d pulled back, but there were other encampments within forty kilometers. He could easily slip there and back so long as Ulric was distract—

“Kunsel!”

I get I fucked up with Zack and Cloud, but seriously? This bullshit will not help me get them back.

“Ulric,” he said with a smile.

“Come on, we’re drinking!”

“I’m a little tired—”

“You hijacked an assault airship. You’re fucking drinking.” Ulric froze and looked at him funny. Then serious. “…Do you like drinking? Because you don’t have to. We have water and non-alcoholic drinks. Crowe always keeps like fifty odd packages of tea on her.”

Why… why does that matter? I can’t get drunk. And I know how armies work. You drink. It’s what done.

He had vivid memories of the drinking parties the cadets and MPs and other non-enhanced military members had. Everyone drank. Everyone.

“I’m fine. I don’t mind the drinks.”

"I can raid Crowe's stash. Tredd also always keeps one of the weird fancy sodas on him--"

“It's fine. This world’s alcohol isn’t that strong.”

“You little shit,” Ulric muttered, while shaking his head. His arm was securely around him. And he squeezed his shoulder. "I'll remember that when we drag you out to Julian's."

Kunsel kept his eyes light and let the older man steer him toward the crowd. He hadn't meant to act so rash, but the result was good.

He could use this. 

He could use anything and everything. Would.

Because it had been eight months.

And they were still in hell.

***

Retreating?

Retreating?

Never before had a member of his army retreated. Never.

“Sir—”

“Forty more lashes!”

“…Yessir.”

Caligo settled back and watched the Colonel squirm under the lash. He didn’t cry out, but that meant nothing. Even a mutt knew when be silent and whimper when beaten.

Moreso, he watched the other officers. He kept track of each flinch and each time an eye darted away from the beating. Each would be punished.

There was no room for weakness. Not when they were inches away from crushing the Lucians and taking the rightful place as rulers of this unkempt world.

“…Don’t let him down,” he quietly to his Second, standing to go to his private quarters. “He’ll serve as a reminder until we move again. Then, you may cut him down.”
And let the maggots enjoy the corpse.

Truly, for them to lose the upper hand—when General Glauca himself gave them every detail of this assault—was an embarrassment.

Then, to lose an assault ship?

“Imbeciles,” he hissed unlocking the door.

…He was going to enjoy butchering the Galahdian fleas.

“When I fin—Ack!”

Hot.

Hot.

“I’d be very careful. These pokers are so old and crusty… one wrong move could mean an ash on your tongue.”

He didn’t know the voice.

“Now, Brigadier General Ulldor, this does not have to be violent. I am reasonable. All I want is a few answers. What do you say?”

He nodded. Anything to get this fucking thing out of his mouth.

“…I said, what do you say, General?”

Chapter Text

Kunsel had heard dozens of stories about Julian Catta’s bar.

Of the cheap drinks and hefty tips they’d leave. That didn’t make sense, but Kunsel was coming accept that there were no rational people in this world. After all, why not raise the drink price instead of relying on other’s charity? One was far more constant.

Of the barmaid, Tiffany Beatrix, who was basically a member of their group. That did make sense. While most of the civilian interaction was limited to those who worked in Shinra, it was still important to have a few contacts to gauge the populace’s temper.

Of the bartender; a patriotic man who was far more interested in catering to the needs of the refugees and immigrants than the Crown citizens. Again, that made sense. You always needed someone to keep outside groups in check. Shinra specialized in that, before, during, and after an invasion. After all, you can’t manipulate and bend a group to your will without intimately understanding them.

There were more details that both made and didn’t make sense to him, but at the end of the day, the bar in the old building was truly the far and away favorite of the Kingsglaives.

Kunsel was hoping that they’d leave earlier than usual since he wanted to do some more recon with the information Ulldor had been so… cooperative in given him.

Because there was a mole.

There was a mole reporting to one of the high ranking Commanders. Kunsel didn't have much to go off of, because Ulldor wasn't trusted with much information, but he had idea of the main suspects, with a few intel officers and low ranking generals flashing through his mind. There wasn't much information on some of those higher up and there certainly wasn't any information on any of their Intel officers. Kunsel wondered just how many were potentially hiding in Lucian territories to control and obtain intel. It was a smart move and something the Turks did throughout the Wutai war, with false promises given to those who worked for them...

For all the bullshit the Goddess had thrown at him, it seemed like he’d be given a reprieve. At half past six, a solid forty-five minutes early, his guard poked his head into his room.

“Hey, we’re leaving in thirty because we got stuck with food duty.”

“Have a good time,” Kunsel said, not looking up from Professor Thatcher’s notes. They weren’t the most complete, but they did fill in a few questions he had. And he’d take any progress he could get. Especially since his medical studies didn’t show anything of major significance. There was some mutation to his Mako cells, but he needed to do a few more weeks of observation to figure out if it was constantly changing or just a reaction to him being cut off.  There wasn’t anything that could explain his issues with food—

Ulric sat his hand down on the papers.

“…I’m going to assume this is a case of you forgetting. You’re coming out with us. Remember what I said at the camp?”

…Truly, he hadn’t expected to be invited out. He thought Ulric was joking.

Of course, the man wasn’t.

Ulric didn’t wait for him to reply. He shook head and let out a breath. The look that made Kunsel want to run was back in his eyes. His guard ran an eye over him before walking over to his wardrobe. He didn’t open it.

“…Have you bought any clothes sine you arrived? Or is everything the stuff we gave you?”

With what money? You don’t pay me.

“I’m more than happy with—”

“No. Nope.” Ulric held up a hand and opened his phone. “Hey, you were right. Bring over… like five different shirts. And a couple of jackets—”

It’s not cold. I don’t need a jacket.

“—and maybe like a belt option or two… What do you mean… You’re the same size! Or close enough… Hell no, I’m not asking Tredd. They don’t have the same style—”

Are you…

…I’m not desperate to beg for clothes, you fucker.

“—Okay, fine, well message him… Hey, I’m not the only who missed this the last time. This is on all of us. Mostly you for suddenly wanting kabobs… Yeah, whatever… Thanks, man.”

Ulric hung up the phone.

“Right. Atticus will be here in a minute, and you can borrow a shirt from him… if you like any of them.” The last part was clearly forced out. “I… I’m sorry.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Ulric,” Kunsel said kindly.

“But I have. I… I should’ve asked if you had clothes. Or offered to take you to a store or…” A new thought overtook Ulric and he leaned against the wardrobe. “…Why didn’t you ask to get new clothes?”

“…Because the ones I have work. They’re very nice. Good quality,” Kunsel said, raising an eyebrow. It wasn’t even forced, because the whole conversation was strange. He had a few nice day clothes—really nice; like board of directors’ paycheck nice—and his uniform. And boots. That fit. What else could he need?

…Also, he didn’t have any money and he wasn’t going to be indebted to any of these people.

“Yeah, bu—”

“Knock, knock!” They looked over as Thatcher walked in. “Delivery courtesy of Crownsguards and the Kingsglaives.”

He laid out fifteen shirts, seven jacks, and nine belts.

“…Atticus?”

“Yes?”

“…What the fuck?”

“Glad you asked! Word spread like wildfire—”

“I talked to Pelna seven minutes ago—”

“—And wildfire is fast! So, I had several people throw clothes at me. Yes, there are bets on which ones you pick and full outfits, including pants. Don’t ask how they know—”

“I only have four pairs. I’ve worn them all. Repeatedly.”

A silence overcame the slightly too happy Crownsguard as he looked toward Ulric. His guard shrugged and ended the silent conversation before it began.

“Right!” And there it was again. “Pick whatever speaks to you!”

Ulric’s quick transition from neutral to kind about made Kunsel vomit—

“I’ve had a lot of friends, but you’re my best friend. I just want to make that clear. Because it matters—you matter—and it’s important.”

—and he was glad for the empty room.

Slowly, he stood and started to look through the ridiculous amount of clothes. The stupid, ridiculous, varied… loud… vibrant… interesting…

…

…

Kunsel grabbed his other pants and shirts and laid them out.

…He could do this. The dramatic bastard explained how to disguise themselves. All he had to do was put on an outfit that would make him blend him. Something that would be appropriate, but not stick out. But also reflect him.

…

…

What the hell ‘reflected him?’

…What he liked? Wanted to portray? A combination? If so, what percentages?

“Hey, I found these and thought of you, so…”

“I love it. Thank you, Cloud.”

“Hm? Let me— Oh, shit! That’s totally you, Kuns.”

If you were here, then you’d know. You’d be able to look at all this and…

…

…

I miss you.

Shiva’s tits, he missed them.

…He… He couldn’t waste time. He had to…

…

…

Fuck it. I’ll just try stuff on until it looks… whatever.

***

“Pony up! All you bastards!”

With the black shirt with a griffon looking creature on it, a dark brown jacket, jeans, and the simple brown belt, Khara won the bet. He grinned like madman at the bar as everyone sat down the money bet. Kunsel thought Thatcher was joking about the amount of people who placed bets.

…He was incorrect.

The bar was… cozier than he initially scoped it out to be. While it was an old building, it was clearly cared for. The repairs weren’t hidden, so it was easy for the craftsmanship to show. There were small signs that showed the quality. A person would only know if they had been around or grew up with a craftsman. It didn’t matter that he had been maybe three or four; his grandfather would patiently explain every repair he did to the shack. It’s probably the only reason it felt like a home.

…What was the phrase they all used? ‘It was good to find similarities despite the differences?’

…

…

Sure, it’s a line to manipulate me. But I know that. I know the truth so… finding comfort in the lie can’t be worse thing.

It wasn’t and he needed to keep his head on. He put his smile in place as Ulric dragged him to the bar. Julian pouring beers while Tiffany was opening some ciders and pulling out frozen glasses.

“Julian! We need you to meet one of our new one,” Ulric said, grinning widely. “This is Kunsel Zelda.”

“Good to finally meet you, son.” Catta said, setting down the glasses. “Heard a lot about you from the boys. Glad they were able to bring you around.”

“It’s good to be here, and nice to meet you,” Kunsel politely responded and held out his hand. Immediately the bar broke out in snickers.

“Well, now I am extra glad you’re here,” the bartender said, shaking his hand. “My foolish Glaives can use lessons in manners.”

“Now, Julian,” Altius cut, leaning close to Kunsel, “if we start acting with manners, how will the locals know who the ‘foreigners’ are?”

A round of hollering and shouts and insults went around the room while Julian shook his head. Kunsel himself smirked slightly. While he’d avoided most of the bullshit once he got the language down and killed his accent, the years growing up… People hated differences. Even if the difference was child who…

No. No.

“Hi, Kunsel!” He looked up to see Tiffany Beatrix carrying two serving trays filled with glasses and bottles. “Welcome to the grotto! You’re first drink is on the house.”

What?

He looked at Catta who nodded and gestured at the large store of liquor behind him.

“Whatever you’d like. Don’t be shy.”

“This is how you get the good shit!” Furia said, wrapping an arm around him. He already smelled like beer. “Because this wonderful man mean any drink is up for grabs. Including the top shelf shit. And the vodkas and gins that he’s got…”

“The cocktails are also an option,” the medic Vernon-Miller said, holding up a drink that smelled strongly of ginger and lime.

Unfortunately… and potentially fortunately, this comment started the whole damn bar yelling what he should order.

Kunsel took mental notes of everyone’s favorite drinks before looking back to Catta. A part of him was tempted by the top shelf liquors and drinks, but… it felt wrong to order one. Yes, this was a gimmick to make the person feel ‘special’ so they’d order more. However, given all that he’d observed over the last few months in regards to business practices and store security, it felt wrong to take something that nice from a man who was surrounded by fools. He scanned the taps looking for…

Oh.

“…I’ll have the Berliner Weisse, please.”

The groans from the bar only encouraged him. Catta smiled at him and poured him the drink. Kunsel took it with a thanks, and a smile formed as the subtle peach flavor covered his tongue. He couldn’t get drunk, but this was the next best thing.

…And it was probably a good thing that he couldn’t get drunk. After all, he didn’t have much money besides what he could scrounge from gutters and allies… and from the registers from the stores he broke into. Repeatedly. However, he always left them notes of how to improve their security and if they followed his instructions or not, so that was more like an unnegotiated and unavoidable fee.

After getting his drink, the conversations took off. Kunsel moved out of the way—

“Oh, hell no, pretty boy.” Ulric grabbed his arm. “You’re a guest of honor tonight. You don’t have to sit in the middle, but you’re staying up here.”

Ah. They wanted him drunk to interrogate him. He politely smiled, and took a seat slightly further away.

‘Guest of honor.’ Not a bad line.

He nursed the drink and observed the room. Small groups formed everywhere… with a mix of…

What the fuck?

He’d learned from the missions who liked who and what groups to expect. But… those weren’t the groups here. The Vernon-Millers weren’t together. Neither was Altius, Ostium, Khara, and Ulric. Well, Ulric and Khara were together with him at the bar, but the other two were spread out. Lux and Salvus—not the intelligence agent, but her cousin, Xander—weren’t together either. Hell, even the Bellum brothers and Arra weren’t together. It was just… he didn’t know.

Kunsel had no idea why… They were supposed to…

This… this is a trick. This is a trick or test and I need to focus and pay attention or-or find a way to get them drunk. You can’t lie when you’re drunk. Even the best of the Turks were always cautious around alcohol because of this. So—so—

“Kunsel?” Catta. The bar tender. He smiled and leaned forward. “So, how are you settling into our jewel of a city?”

“It’s been smoother than expected. Your King and his advisors are practical, yet generous people.”

“You were in cell for month, Kunsel. No need to sugar coat it,” Ulric cut in, before turning back to his own conversation.

Catta rolled his eyes and shook his head… fondly at the Kingsglaive.

“He’s always been like that. Ever since he first appeared in my bar,” the older man said good naturedly. He gave him a glass of water. “I don’t have many house rules, but this one is strict. For every drink you have water. Few exceptions to this.”

Kunsel nodded understandingly—even though it was a ridiculous lie and just a bad business practice—and drank some of the water.

…It wasn’t spiked with anything. Weird.

“How long have you run this place?”

“Twenty-six years! Feels like yesterday I hoped the Groggy Morrow,” the man shook his head and looked around the room. “Never thought it would be a home for the Glaives, but here we are. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You’re too for us, Julian!”

“We love you too!”

“And Tiffany!” The elder Bellum shouted out, picking up the waitress who yelped.

And then solidly kicked in his stomach.

Kunsel joined in on the laughter as the man sunk to his knees.

“Rough housing jar, Sonitus.” Catta replied easily, tapping a jar. He looked back to him. “I know it wasn’t… an easy transition, but I’m glad you came out tonight with everyone. Please know, that this bar is open for you at any time. Even if the ‘Closed Sign’ is flipped, you’re welcome in.”

“How lucky I am, to be in a world so generous.”

“…I honestly can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or honest,” Beatrix said, grabbing a few more bottles.

“Honest. Truly, you all are far more trusting than I expected.”

“What did you think? You think we’d just lock you up forever?” Khara asked rhetorically, taking a drink. There were a few chuckles and Kunsel just smiled and shrugged.

Because if he was being honest… being locked away would’ve been a kindness. All of this—

“Hey fuckers! Pool time!”

“Oh fuck,” Ulric groaned and ordered a double shot.

Kunsel watched several of them pounce on the green table and set up the balls.

“Is there a tournament or…”

“Nope. Just a bunch of drunks who think they can play,” his guard replied. “You play?”

“Not in a while.”

“Ah,” Khara drawled out with a grin. “You’re a shark.”

“What? No.”

“Bullshit, you’re not.” Ulric joined in. “No one says ‘not in a while’ like that unless they’re damn shark.”

“…But I’m not.”

The two Kingsglaives laughed and Kunsel wished he had a knife.

“…I’m not.”

“Aw, don’t pout, Kunsel.” Khara leaned against him. “…What did you think of the show?”

“Show?”

“Bob Ross. The painting show.” His voice was much softer now as Ulric went over to break up an argument that broke out… much quicker than Kunsel thought it would. He also noted that Julian was watching them from the corner of his eye.

“It was… different. Much different from the shows I normally watch,” Kunsel truthfully admitted. There wasn’t much harm in it. And… he was kind of curious about how such a program started. “Do you watch it often.”

“All the time. Well, all the time when I have the time to spare.” Khara pulled out his phone and showed him a few pictures. “My mom and I painted a lot when I was younger.”

“I can’t imagine a show replicating that.” There was no snark in his voice. His own mother…

He couldn’t image what activities they would’ve done together.

“It’s not supposed to. Not at all. Bob Ross is just a good person who wants to spread a good message about being kind. And, he’s a pretty good teacher when it comes to painting. What’s not to love?”

Kindness had nothing to do with painting. But… Kunsel could admit the man’s voice was… hypnotic. Alluring.

Maybe I need to watch more to fully understand.

He finished his drink and almost jerked his head over to see Altius cheering and standing on the pool table, while the medic Vernon-Miller and Ulric tried to get her down. Ostium and Furia were cheering her on quiet enthusiastically. And… more were. All the groups joined together around the table.

“What the fuck?”

“We’re going out! The bullshit is over and Angeal is Kalm, so let’s go!”

“I though—”

“Forget what you thought, Kunsel! Zack even got a mini-raise.”

“Hell yes I did! Food… mostly on me!”

“You sure you to buy how many fries Jethro will eat?”

“Fuck off, Luxiere. Better than the bitch beer you smuggled in when we were Cadets.”

“At least we got drunk before the Mako.”

“Where’s Meyers? And Garreth?”

“Meeting us. Get your shoes on!”

…He didn’t want that again.

…He didn’t want that.

“…Kunsel?” Khara’s voice was softer. Eyes worried. “You okay?”

“Fine. Fine… just tired.”

“Nyx mentioned you liked to sleep pretty early.”

“It’s just routine.”

Khara hummed and ordered them more drinks.

“My treat and thanks.”

“…You… You bought me a drink when we got kabobs.”

“Then it’s a ‘holy-shit-I-can’t-believe-you-got-a-fucking-assault-ship’ drink.” Kunsel… didn’t really have a reply for that. He watched Catta pour him another drink. “I’ll fully admit: I didn’t think you were a sour type.”

Sour?

“Um…what?”

“The beer. That’s a sour.”

“…Okay?”

“You… Oh my fucking gods,” Khara groaned into his hands. “Baby. You’re a baby. You can take down an assault ship—”

“It was landed and barely manned.”

“—but you don’t know your beers. Okay. Julian! We’re fixing this next time.”

The bar tender just laughed and nodded and Kunsel tried to figure out he lost control of the conversation.  

He needed control again. He just—

“But seriously,” Khara was holding up his glass and a gentle smile was on his face. “Welcome to the Kingsglaives, Kunsel.”

“Welcome!”

“Here, here!”

Everyone at the table had stopped what they were doing as soon as Khara spoke and was now toasting him. He wasn’t even the newest person here.

It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense and…

Smile. Smile. Laugh. Play the part.

So, he did.

He played the part and toasted Ulric and Khara and started a whole round of people telling stories and cheering. He was able to sit and back and reevaluate, because…

…

…

He was stupid. He shouldn’t be…

…

He needed to leave this fucking world and get back to his own.

He needed Cloud and Zack. Like a pathetic child, he needed them.

I’ve got new leads and ideas. I haven’t forgotten you both. I won’t. I’m getting back and getting you out. I promise. I promise.

Chapter Text

He hadn’t bought any clothes.

Nyx couldn’t get it out of his head. Not when they were at Julian’s and not during the next week.

Kunsel hadn’t bought any clothes since he’d arrived.

None.

And… It shouldn’t have bothered him so much. Kunsel was an adult who could do what he wanted with his paycheck and if he wanted to spend money on things other than clothes, that was.

…Except he hadn’t.

Nyx knew it was an invasion of privacy, but when his roommate would dragged off by the others, he go into his room and just looked around. He didn’t open any drawers—a false compromise on his dignity, but he’d do anything to feel less ‘ick’—but instead chose to look at the items on the desk.

There were books borrowed from Library. There were notebooks and journals from their supply closet. There were pens and pencils.

And that was it.

Nothing personal.

Nothing sentimental.

Nothing… nothing to make it seem like he was settling in. Finding his place with them.

It was sterile. Sterile in a way that…

Since his initial conversations with Kowalski and Rico, he did try and watch for signs of depression in his charge turned roommate. He did so even more after their night stargazing in Hammerhead. He felt that would be the turning point. It was a quiet night of exchanging stories in hushed voices and not hiding emotions. Being open.

It wasn’t.

Kunsel returned—or retreated might be the better word—to his politeness that felt robotic. Fake. And Nyx thought he’d have to call in favors, but that next day, Kunsel did something unexpected.

He saved Pelna.

And helped take an unexpected Behemoth and got knocked flat by it. And he… was okay. He wasn’t concussed or anything and that… Nyx didn’t know what to make of that.

But he didn’t need to ask for favors after that. The Glaives were tightknit group. And saving one? That got you in.

Not that Kunsel got it.

There was an air of confusion around everyone taking more interest in him. Visiting him after the magic debacle—which about made his fucking heart stop—and then trying to add on more training to help him keep up.

Which is laughable in retrospect because Kunsel didn’t need to keep with them.

He set the fucking curve.

An airship.

A godsdamned assault airship captured and dozens of his brothers and sisters saved in the matter of minutes by a wild but brilliantly executed plan by the rookie who really, really, really didn’t act like a rookie. Maybe he was prodigy or something; after all, he acted like he had a decade of experience as opposed to two years.

And that should’ve been the turning point.

Kunsel risking his neck not only for the Glaives but securing their country an enemy ship. They can study it. Copy it. Reverse engineer it. It was incredible.

So, they partied that night.

And Nyx had called in one favor.

He managed to make sure the Intel Agent was Fred. She was one of the best ones out there to keep an eye on Kunsel and help Nyx get a read on him.

Because he was having a fucking hard time figuring out if it was really a difference of cultures and worlds or if it was Kunsel’s personality to be more textbook polite and reserved and kind of… bad at reading social cues.

…

…He had been their prisoner. He had been a prisoner and Nyx was wondering just how much of that was still messing with them moving forward to being allies and teammates and… friends.

He wanted to be friends with Kunsel.

Because under the politeness there was life. Prickly, snarky, a little embarrassed and boyish uncertainty wrapped around a quiet intelligence and softness.

Yes, that softness hadn’t been seen since the night they did their stargazing. But Nyx sure as hell was not going to forget it. He just needed to find a way to get Kunsel that comfortable again so he could let it out on maybe on more of a…less emotional moment. The whole part with him talking about the Swan constellation… There was something there. Something Nyx didn’t understand.

But during their celebration at the base camp… There was a bit of lightness in Kunsel every so often. He wasn’t big, but Nyx could see, when he looked over the idiots singing and laughing and joking… he was calm. Calm and comfortable.

So, then they went to Julian’s.

And it was there again. But… stilted. Even with Pelna talking and joking with him—and lightly ribbing him—it wasn’t as strong.

And Nyx didn’t know what to do.

“Hey—I didn’t know you were still here?”

“I was working on a few answers for Professor Thatcher,” Kunsel replied, tying his shoes. He was wearing one of the shirts that had been gathered up during the betting. He’d tried to give them back, everyone refused them, under the guise of more bets. But, really, when they all learned and realized that he had not bought any new clothes…

They were worried.

They were all worried.

“Cool. Do you need a ride? I wouldn’t mind,” Nyx said with a smile, hoping he’d get the hint.

“I have a bus ticket.”

…Of fucking course, he wouldn’t.

“Alright. Well, if you want a pick up, then just give him a text.”

“I’ve walked for twenty-one years, I can do it one more time—”

“Hold up. Hold up,” Nyx raised his hand and Kunsel paused walking to his room. “You said you were twenty.”

“…Yes? I was.”

“God—When was your birthday?”

“…A few weeks ago,” Kunsel calmly replied. “What of it?”

What of…

…

…

Fuck.

He needed to talk to Kowalski and Rico.

“Just… I wish you would’ve said something. Could’ve gone out to dinner or I could’ve seen if you could’ve gotten the day off.”

Kunsel raised an eyebrow, but still had the mechanic smile on his face.

“It is fine. It’s just another day.”

Bullshit.

“Okay, well—”

“I’d need to get going, Ulric. I’ll miss the bus.”

He was out of the room before Nyx could say anything.

…

…

…Fuck.

…

Maybe birthdays aren’t a big thing. Maybe it’s not a thing they celebrate.

…

…

No. No, it…

…

…

…

…Maybe it wasn’t something that wasn’t important to him. That was fine. That was okay.

But it was big here. Important. And… He didn’t need to talk to Kowalski and Rico. Not right now. Yes, he still was going to go. Later.

But now?

Now, he needed to get a gift.

***

…Holy fuck I don’t know anything about him.

Nyx had been to five different stores in the last two hours and had no idea what on earth to get Kunsel.

He knew a few thing:

One: Kunsel liked to draw and doodle. Obsessively.

Two: He like astronomy and mythologies of the stars and cosmos.

Three: He was more bamboozled than interested in Bob Ross’s show.

And… that was it.

That was really it.

He had no idea about any other hobbies or interests. At all.

Because Kunsel just… didn’t talk.

Or he wasn’t listening.

Or it was both.

Nyx ran a hand through his hair. The shopping square was lively. Lively with so many people. It was sort of funny. It was a city that never slept, but Nyx couldn’t tell that it was a working city with so many out and about.

But that was wealth.

So many people around, Nyx didn’t know if he could think with so many people around. And it wasn’t necessarily the crowds, but the stares. He was Galahdian, through and through, from his beads to clothes and yeah, that caused stares, but they didn’t need to be so cal…culating…

…

…

He knew what the right gift was.

But it wasn’t his call.

***

“Are you mad, Ulric?”

Yep. That was expected.

“No, sir. I’m offering my opinion of the situation,” he replied calmly to Drautos. All of the Big Three were here. “I’ve watched Kunsel for almost nine months. I was his door guard and then bodyguard. I know his behavior and body language. He’s not a threat to us. His actions have spoken that. His words speak it. I believe that having me room with him is no longer necessary.”

…He wasn’t going to lie—to himself at least—it hurt. Doing this. Because he didn’t know if Kunsel being alone was going to be a good thing, but after almost a full year living under a microscope—or feeling like he was—it was the right call.

“He’s determined to return to his world.”

“Of course, sir. He wants to go home. To the people he left behind.”

“A world he says is all but controlled by a villainous organization.”

“He cares for those friends. I cannot blame him for wanting to go home.”

“You were selected for this for impartial judgement, Ulric,” Shield Amicitia spoke. “I expect better than an emotional response.”

“With all due respect, sir, this isn’t emotional. This is logical. If you were forced out of your home, wouldn’t you return?”

Gate duty. He was absolutely going to be on gate duty or outright demoted.

He really couldn’t care.

He didn’t care that these were some of the most powerful people in the Kingdom; the fuck they got to lecture him missing home. Not when their home was safe behind a wall and his had been burned. When he and Libertus and Crowe and Pelna and even Luche buried so many people in the span of afternoon before being evacuated out of there before the next blitz.

“…It will be discussed, Ulric.”

It was a dismissal, and Nyx was glad for it.

…He knew they would say ‘no.’

It sucked because it was them forcing more from Kunsel than they were willing to accept.

Okay. I tried. I tried.

…

…

…

Fuck it.

He was going to hit someone, so he did what any sensible person did.

He went for a walk.

Because otherwise he might start a fight in the dual gym and that was only going to make things so much worse—

“Ah. You’re Nyx Ulric, yes?”

…Oh fuck. Fuckity fuck.

“Yes, your Highness,” he said, bowing the Prince.

“You’re the one watching the dimension traveler—Zelda?”

“Yes, you’re Highness. I was his guard, but as he’s a full member of the Glaives, I am simply his roommate.”

“Cool.” The young man glanced to his best friend. “Come on, you wanted to ask.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the blonde said, huffing at the Prince. He looked at Nyx and was clearly embarrassed. “I just… I wanted to say ‘thanks’ to him. For not letting the daemon hurt me. I… I know it’s late, but… well…”

Protocol.

“It’s okay,” Nyx said softly. “I think he’d enjoy a ‘thank you.’ However, he’s out right now.”

“Oh! I—I thought I wouldn’t…” He trailed off and started to go through his bag, looking for something. “I thought there were more security measures still up, so… I made this. For him.”

He held out a small box. Nyx took it.

“Thanks, Prompto. I’ll make sure he gets it.”

The teen beamed and the Prince smiled even a bit. Younger Amacitia looked blank and judgy like his father.

He waved good-bye and watched them head off toward the living quarters.

…

…

…

Hey. You done at the University? Are you on the bus?

I am finished, but I haven’t gotten on yet.

Good. I got a place I want to meet.

***

“…This is…” Kunsel looked around, not hiding the shock on his face.

“I know. Better than the city, right?”

It had been a few hours drive, but Nyx thought they both needed the break. From what little he could from Atticus, the work on getting Kunsel home was not going well. And while Nyx could get Galahdian food in the city, he couldn’t get the thing that made his home his home.

The beach.

Nyx kicked off his shoes and let the water run over his feet. Kunsel—

Was pulling his pants up to his knees and immediately going toward the water.

“…I’m glad to know that I’m not the only one who enjoys the water,” he said, walking over to him. “You go to the beach often?”

“Not… not really. The last time…” Kunsel took a deep breath and looked away from him. “…It’s been a long time.”

…That was a lie. That was a lie, but that was okay. That was okay. He didn’t need to know.

“…It’s been too long for me. It’s in driving distance, but still… I get too busy. Which is ridiculous. I’m fucking islander. Being away from the ocean so much is just wrong.”

“…Have you had time to go back to Galahd?”

“…Three times. For missions. I… It sucks to see it all broken when I can’t fix it.”

The wind whistled over the water. They let it lap around their ankles and knees.

“…My home’s always been run down. It’s on the sea.”

Soft.

Soft and quiet and painful. Moreso than the stars—”

“That’s why you talked about navigation.” Kunsel turned to him. “You grew up on the water. Of course, you’d know about navigating by the stars. That’s the… the only way.”

“Yeah… Well, that and knowing where the rocks are.”

Nyx laughed.

Nyx laughed loudly and fully.

And… Kunsel was laughing. He couldn’t hear it, but he could see the shoulders moving.

“…Yeah. Yeah, that would be pretty fucking important.”

“Just a little.”

They walked along the shore; chasing the waves and letting the sand coat their legs. They didn’t splash each other or try to knock the other into ocean—like he knew Lib and Crowe would do to him—but that was okay. More than okay.

Just getting out and enjoying everything… this was nice enough.

“…I hate to do this, but we need to back before it gets dark.”

A sunset over the beach would’ve been amazing, but with just two they couldn’t risk the daemons. Kunsel agreed and they walked back to his truck.

Once they were on the road, Kunsel messed with the radio and let it play on a soft jazz station.

“…Thank you, Nyx. This was… really nice.”

It took all of his willpower to not veer off the road.

“Not a problem. We both needed this.” He glanced over at him with a smile.

And Kunsel returned it.

A real one that touched his eyes.

“Yeah… we did.”

Chapter Text

Kunsel was honestly debating holding up in one of the safe houses he’d acquired over the last month.

He called Ulric by his first name.

He called him ‘Nyx.’

And… he hadn’t gone back to Ulric. He… hadn’t wanted too.

And that felt like a betrayal. A true, purposeful betrayal toward Zack and Cloud who were still in hell. And here he was doing jackshit to save them. Whatever bullshit made eating harder and made him lose track of time was earned. Whatever hell he’d endure getting back or eternal torment he’d face would be justified, because he was failing them. He was failing them at every turn, and he was so pathetic that he had to rely on others to do the work for him.

Not that there was any significant progress there.

Professor Thatcher was intelligent and logical and rational and reasonable. In another life, he’d enjoy debating with the man.

…But the problem of him arriving was one that no one could fucking solve. Between whatever light—from an intense magical source most likely—that originally had him knocked out and the magic of this world knocking him again, Kunsel was more than certain that he’d be able to make more progress if he had some Materia. But he didn’t. The fuckers took his weapons, his poisons, his Materia, and his Mother’s necklace before sending him through. All of it made sense except for the necklace.

“…How the fuck did ya keep that shiny hid—Hey! Don’t be dick.”

“Touch it and I’ll gouge your eyes out.”

“Fine sweetheart—”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

…Yeah.

He probably had it.

But none of that was actually the reason he wanted to schedule a tactical retreat.

“So, Kuns, when do the rest of us get first name privileges?”

“If anything, I’m up higher on the list than you!”

“Is it length of time or quality of time?”

“…So, besides a beach trip, what else do you want?”

Kunsel wanted to avoid Nyx so he went down to eat breakfast in the Mess thinking it would be empty. And it was.

Until one of the traitorous fuckers in the room texted the others and now the descended on him like vultures. Honestly, he rather be running through the Slums with Zack again and traveling in pairs to avoid being beaten than dealing with this.

At least back there he could fight. With prejudice.

“…He’s my roommate. Naturally, he’d be first,” Kunsel grumbled, trying to finish. He had an appetite earlier.

“Aw, don’t be so grumpy, Kuns,” Altius said, sliding into the spot next to him.

“I’m not grumpy.” He was mildly homicidal. Major difference. He focused on forcing himself to finish the breakfast as a round of laughs and looks passed between the people around him.

“Of course not. You just look like someone put lemon juice in your coffee.”

“Good—Hey! We’re on crutches!”

Kunsel was grateful for the attention to be transferred over to Khara as he walked in with Nyx. He made eye contact with the two Galahdians and nodded before looking back down at the tray. He didn’t have much left to finish, but each bite felt like paste in his mouth and made his stomach boil in a way it hadn’t since he first arrived.

…What the hell was it? Was it an ingredient? It couldn’t be environmental, or it would be happening all the time. So, wha—

“Morning, pretty boy,” Nyx said, breaking his line of thought. “Surprised that you came down.”

“Didn’t feel like cooking,” he boredly replied as Khara took the seat next to him. And took his reprieve away as everyone returned to crowd around him.

May as well try to keep the conversation off me.

“How long will you be on crutches?”

“Not too long. About another month, then I can get back into really training. Should be cleared for missions about a month after that,” Khara replied with a smile, tearing into his omelet. “I can’t fucking wait. I miss getting out and doing things. How you didn’t go stir crazy in the cell is beyond me.”
Motherfucker.

“I found other ways to entertain myself.”

Chuckles went around the table and different conversations started amongst smaller groups. Kunsel was glad to be sitting on the edge, because it gave him a greater chance to watch and not participate. There wasn’t any discussion of their work or fighting or training, despite Khara’s clear excitement to be involved again. Instead, they talked about movies and tv shows or caught others up on the latest drama that was going around.

The coffee wasn’t bitter in the worst way. The eggs weren’t stale and yet too runny at once. The toast wasn’t hard as a rock.

…

A million things that were so different. It shouldn’t be so different. They were still soldiers. They were in a war.

And yet… it was different. It was so different it made him want to scream.

And it wasn’t like he and Zack didn’t have these kinds of conversations with the others. They did. But it was rarely ever in the Mess. And there was always an air of people trying to one up the others or push another down. It was how you would stand if you didn’t have real talent.

Zack never needed to act like that.

Kunsel never wanted to stand out.

And Cloud would never have acted like that.

…

…_{It hurt. It hurt so damn much. So, so fucking much he just wanted to—}

A punch landed on his jaw.

What?

Wha—what happened—

Another punch.

It was the younger Bellum brother. And Fortis.

They were in a closet.

Oh. Jump session.

They happened a lot after he became Second Class. The Turks did it to see if he would remember training techniques or be able to force himself quickly into the right mindset to handle torture.

And that had to be happening here, because these two were regulars at the torture training. It had been a while since Kunsel’s last session so this made sense.

He let a numbness seep into his body as the blows continued. One after another after another.

…He was honestly bored.

He was SOLDIER. He could—had—take beatings for days on end and be fine. The only concern he had was that if it went on for too long, his healing would start to show. That was a major problem—

Hot.

He took a sharp breath as the searing metal pressed deep into his upper thigh.

“Hey. Don’t be a dumbass.”

He didn’t look at Fortis, but the younger Bellum was annoyed. He slammed his foot onto Kunsel’s toes before shoving his head into a water bucket. He could hold his breath for about five minutes before any burning set in. After eight minutes was more concerning, and ten was when he’d really start to struggle. However, unenhanced persons started struggling way sooner than that, so he put on a show around the minute mark. He was let up around the three minute mark.

“…Come on. Let’s go.”

The statement wasn’t directed at him.

Bellum got one last kick in before leaving him on the floor of the closet.

Kunsel took a few deep breaths and looked around for his things. Really, he wasn’t concerned about the bruises and scrapes. Hell, even the branding would heal up in a day or so.

It was the time lost.

Because he hadn’t had a transition this jarring in over two months. He’d gotten used to losing five or ten or even fifteen minutes. That was fine and he always recovered.

But this? This was different.

He found his phone turned off, behind a few cleaning mops. Kunsel took off his boot and reset his broken toes while waiting for the phone to turn on.

Ten twenty-seven in the morning.

Three hours.

He’ lost three hours and forty-three minutes.

…

…

What the fuck? What was… what the fuck was wrong with him? What was he doing wrong?

This… He was a liability. How was he supposed to find the mole and get back to Cloud and Zack when he fucking couldn’t keep track of time?

…

…

…Could it be… environmental? But not in a abrupt way, but in a delayed way? The symptoms were bad when he first arrived, but then mellowed out. And now they were picking up again. Could it be something… in the air? Or… Or was it the magic? He was in more fights where his directly around magic and he had been exposed to it again directly…

…

…

Fuck, he wished he had his Materia.

Or…

…

…

He needed to run some more tests. See what was happening to his cells.

The only issue with most of his research was finding a place to keep it. He could only have so many books on his shelf in code, before it just became tedious. His current hideouts where all out in the city, which worked okay for night work, but it would be annoying during the day to try and go out there. It would be suspicious.

…

…He needed a room in the Citadel, preferably the in the Barracks. But finding time to do this when he had so many who were constantly watching him…

…

…

Well, he did always like a challenge.

***

“Wha—Pretty boy!” Nyx had a go back and looked somewhere between annoyed and exasperated at him as he walked up to him. “Where have you been?”

“Around.”

Nyx grumbled and opened the door for him.

“Listen, I a got a call for a quick mission. I’ll be back in a couple of days. Please don’t burn down the place while I’m gone.”

“…I also live here,” Kunsel drawled out. He wasn’t going to burn his own resting place; not unless he was completely abandoning it.

“Yeah, yeah. Expressions.” Nyx ruffled his hair and grinned at him. “See you in a few days.”

“Bye, Nyx.”

The grin turned into a smile and the other took off.

Kunsel walked into the apartment and actually had to fight off the disappointment. This was place so boring; so he was actually looking forward to the challenge of making a secret room while Nyx was around. Now, however…

He pulled out a copy of the blueprints for this floor.

…

…

Yep. A space in between this room and the next. Perfect spot as long as he could make a discrete entrance.

Now, he just needed some tools…

***

Kunsel was all set to make the door when his phone went off. He glared at the small device, but opened it to see a text from Khara.

Come over to my place.

I’m a bit tired. Perhaps tomorrow.

That should get him to leav—

Be tired at my place.

I have food.

And Bob Ross.

And I’m not afraid to use the injured card to call for reinforcements.

…That…

I’ll be over in ten.

:D

Kunsel sat down the phone as numbness spread through him. He let out a sharp breath as pain flared up through his shoulders and back.

…

…

Stress. He knew this was stress.

And…

…

…

Of course, they weren’t going to just let him be alone. He… he must have made a mistake during the training this morning. Or this was Drautos still being pissed about the airship. Or… or something else.

He wasn’t one of them.

This was normal behavior.

…

…

…_{It hurt.}

He put away the tools and walked over to Khara’s place.

It was a one-bedroom apartment, so it was fairly smaller than his and Nyx’s. Khara grinned at him as he was near the stove.

“Perfect timing! I’ve got food!”

And… very tipsy.

“Should I cook?”

“You’re guest, Kuns. And besides, I’ve actually made grilled cheese while dead drunk.”

Kunsel had flashbacks to Zack lighting his entire stove on fire. Khara laughed and shook his head.

“Chill, I’m not tipsy or drunk. It’s just the pain pills.” Khara gave him a sheepish grin. “It’s been heavily implied I should have someone around when taking them. And typically Nyx has volunteered to come over, but with him and a few other mother Chobocos out, I thought it good for us to hang out a bit. With my leg, I haven’t had a too much of a chance to talk to you.”

“We talked at the bar,” Kunsel said, picking up one of the snacks on the counter.

“Yeah, but that was the bar,” Khara replied with a shrug. “…I could actually use a bit of help getting the pan out of the oven. It was a lot easier to when it was cold.”

Kunsel smiled good naturedly and took over for Khara while he sat at the bar.

“…How bad was the breakfast bombardment?”

“It was fine.” That wasn’t a lie as much as he wanted it to be. “It was different than just Nyx and I eating together. For a while… I’m used to eating in the Mess.”

“Then come down and join us more.” Khara spoke like it was the easiest thing in the world. “If you like the atmosphere—or do the kids call it ‘vibe’ nowadays—then come down. Pretty much all of eat all of our meals there anyways. And there are dozens of people you still need to get to know.”

He nodded and dipped up some food.

“Wow, I’m def texting Nyx. You’re bedside manner is way better than his.”

“Oh?”

“‘Get your own plate asshole.’ I mean, obviously, he helped when I needed it, but still, just doing things without being ask…” Khara trailed off and Kunsel hated the look in his eyes. But it was gone quickly. “…Thanks, Kunsel. I appreciate you humoring me.”

Not really a humor when you threaten me.

He chose to smile and took a seat next to the host. The painting show was on in the background was made for nice background noise.

“…You could’ve moved in with someone, even temporarily,” Kunsel said after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah, I could’ve. R&K absolutely wanted me to go in with them, but my pride said ‘hell no.’ And… I don’t think it’s been that bad. Sure, I had to creative with some of the furniture arrangements, but I’m not a roommate person.” Khara took a sip of water. “I grew up with not a lot of space since my folks were always traveling. Don’t get me wrong, it was fun. I loved it. But having my space after not having it for so many years… I couldn’t go back. Not even a little bit.”

Kunsel slowly nodded, but he didn’t really get it. If given the option, he’d always share a space with Zack and Cloud. Why be away from those you’re close to? The world’s cruel and will rip them away soon enough.

“…What about you? Tired of Nyx?”

“He’s been a good roommate.”

“…You don’t have to stand on ceremony.” Kunsel looked at Khara, who was watching him with eyes like Angeal. He forced himself to not clench the butter knife. “I’ve known him for years, so I know the good, bad, and ugly with him. Just cause he’s my friend doesn’t mean he hasn’t driven me crazy some days. Like, this one time…”

Khara started to go off on a story about him and Nyx when they were a lot younger. It was as wild as Zack’s stories growing up in the jungle an-and—

Fuck, it hurt.

Because he didn’t want to miss it. Miss the stories. The laughs. The secrets that weren’t really secrets and the ones that were.

He didn’t want to miss so many people around him and thinking they that they were all a part of something together and at the very least they had that.

He didn’t want it.

…

…

He missed it. He missed it so fucking much and it hurt so godsdamned bad. He missed it. He missed the illusion. He missed… He missed what he thought he had. What he knew he had with Cloud and Zack.

And…

And the beach was unexpected. He was caught off guard and let Nyx’s name slip and he thought he could bring it under control again, but he couldn’t. He fucking couldn’t. And then breakfast came and went and he kept thinking about Julian’s bar and it just hurt so much.

He couldn’t push it away. He couldn’t hide it away and he didn’t want to.

He… he didn’t want to force it all away again.

And he hated himself for it.

“…so, that’s why purple dye is still banned in the building.”

He laughed. He had no idea what the fuck Khara was talking about, but it was so fucking ridiculous, and the energy reminded him so fucking much of Zack that he laughed.

Because he couldn’t let them see the other option.

Khara was grinning like a fool when he settled down. Kunsel took a few deep breaths to fully compose himself.

“…It’s the dishes. He never put them in the dishwasher.”

Kha—

…Pelna laughed and started on another story.

Maybe this was all a ploy, but with the drugs basically acting like alcohol... Maybe Khara just wanted someone over. 

It was naïve thought. Stupid and dangerous and he'd get burned for it. 

...But he deserved that. 

Chapter Text

It was going to drive Kunsel a little bit crazy to have to go back to having a roommate.

The current level of freedom was almost more liberating than when he became Second Class. Being able to run around the city without having to worry about Nyx waking up or finding him out of his room at night was downright intoxicating. It was a joy to just roam through the city without looking over his shoulder.

Currently, he was going over Professor Thatcher’s notes while listening to the bug he set up in Ulric’s go bags. So far… both pursuits were disappointing.

On the front of getting back, Thatcher and his students were trying to see if they could create a ‘wormhole’ or access one. That was… not going well. Any chance of that plan working would take years. Years that Zack and Cloud didn’t have. But he wasn’t a physicist. A scientist. Or theologist, with the way this world’s magic and science worked. Kunsel didn’t know how to fix this. Or even help. He… he did try and talk more freely with Thatcher. Tried to be more open. But… he didn’t know anything. Moving between worlds… he had no idea this research was happening. Nothing in any of the services and archives ever pointed to this happening. Kunsel didn’t even know how many years this work had been done. How people were thrown into this world. Or other worlds. Or if they could reach other worlds. Or if they even knew what they were doing or if it all was just a random chance.

He tried to find others. Finding other SOLDIERs shouldn’t have been too difficult. The behavior patterns were set and the glowing eyes would’ve been noticeable. And, well… he can’t think of too many SOLDIERs who would have the intelligence to not show off their enhancements. Maybe Meyers. Sure as fuck not Jethro or Garreth.

There were none.

And if there were no other SOLDIERs, then the chance of a civilian coming through was far, far less likely. Dimension traveling was hard on the body. Someone unenhanced probably would die upon impact or during the process. And mysterious deaths and unexplained bodies were a dime a dozen in a war zone. Even if they did survive… the shock of this world would probably cause them to act out and be caught and thrown in to an asylum or prison. Either way, they probably wouldn’t last long before the medication or beats destroyed their minds.

So, for now, he was alone.

For finding the mole… Nyx was disappointing. The older Kingsglaive seemed to know everyone and have a good rapport with the others. However, there was nothing out of the ordinary said around him. Kunsel was hoping this strong web of contacts would mean someone would slip and tell him something or that Nyx would have more information available. He was his guard for Shiva’s sake. He should know something more than the average Glaive. But no, there was no secretes shared or hints of a plot mentioned. Fucking nothing happened out of the ordinary… accept for fucking. He knew that Ulric wasn’t celibate, but the man had been rather courteous about not bringing one night stands or lovers to the apartment. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the nights they spent in towns Nyx clearly knew. Kunsel had hoped that maybe his hook-up was a spy and would say something before or after, but no. Nothing of the sort occurred. The only thing Kunsel learned was that Nyx seemed to be an extremely generous and giving lover. Not that he actually… listened to the act occurring.

That… felt wrong. He knew it was standard procedure for the Turks and, hell, he knew that some SOLDIERs slept with others to gain information while another listened in, but…

…It felt wrong. To do that to Nyx.

And… All of it made feel a little ill. But… at least he wasn’t hurting his lover. That was good.

Kunsel… was far too used to Thirds and Seconds being asses toward the cadets or new recruits. As they were SOLDIERs they had the authority to do whatever they wanted. Kunsel understood it for other SOLIDERs. It was necessary to for them to have the skin to skin contact and to feel more human than they were. But for the cadets…

…

…

Well, he and Zack always made sure Cloud was safe. They never touched him. Never hurt him. They always made sure they were transferred or… Kunsel ‘persuaded’ them to leave.

Either way, it was all a turning into a bust and that was setting him on edge.

So, he had to do more himself.

And Nyx being gone gave him plenty of time to do that.

He was able to create and hide a door into a gap in between the units on the floor. He didn’t know if this was intentional or not, but it certainly gave him a means to start studying in earnest. He filled the room with books and manuscripts and charts and corkboards and whiteboards he was able to smuggle in. And, honestly, with the sheer lack of security it really didn’t feel like smuggling. It felt like setting up a safehouse, which was calming. For the first time in months… he felt like he was in own his element. In his skin.

He knew it was going to break again later when Nyx came back, so Kunsel was going to—

“Zelda!”

…Fuck.

“Hello Amicitia,” he politely said to the Shield of the Prince.

“Did Ulric give you Prompto’s gift?”

…What?
“Um, no. No, he didn’t mention anything,” Kunsel said, feeling off kilter.

He had tried very hard to avoid thinking about the young man who looked so, so much like Cloud. It hurt. It hurt and made him want to rage, so he decided not to think about him. About his terrified, bright blue eyes. His same, spiky hair. How the others were clearly protective over him.

“That… Listen, I know he’s out, but fucking text him and find where he put it and take a look. Kid thinks you’re annoyed or didn’t like.”

“I see. Thank you for telling me, Amicitia. Could you inform him that I didn’t receive it?”

“Yeah, yeah.” The slightly older Guard waved him off and headed toward the Citadel proper. Kunsel watched him leave for a minute before quickly texting Nyx.

Of course, he didn’t need to wait for a reply. He tore into his room and didn’t even need to look. The gift in question was on the corner of the other man’s desk just under a few papers. It was carefully wrapped, with clean, precise edges, and a perfectly matched bow. His name was written out so nicely that if it wasn’t for the slight fading of the ink spreading out from the pen’s tip, it could have been mistaken for something a machine would produce. Kunsel slowly unwrapped it while Nyx replied in a frenzy of messages where it was. He responded that he had it and set his phone aside.

What in the…

It was a small paperweight. But, all the sides of it had photographs of Insomnia on it. Beautiful shots of the city from different angels and places. There was no watermark, trademark, or copyright on anything. No residue left over from a sticker being taken off.

Did he… Did he make this?

Of all the things that Kunsel was expecting… this was not one of them.

He… he wanted to thank the young man. Needed to.

But…

…

…

How was he going to do that?

***

Finding Prompto was fairly easy. He had an entire file in the security system as the closest friend Prince Noctis had outside of his retainers. Everything, down to his favorite color and school schedule was listed. It was… minorly infuriating that they’d keep so much intel on a civilian and not their actual soldiers.

Kunsel slipped out during the night to the address. He’d have to keep an eye out for the parents, but hopefully he could use that to his advantage. If they were watching TV or out for an evening, then him being in Prompto’s room would be ignored…

…

…

The house was empty. Empty save for his target.

He watched the young man sit at the table in the kitchen, looking over papers and writing notes… No, numbers down. It must be a budget or something.

Kunsel landed next to the window of the bedroom that had to be Prompto’s. He crept in and silently moved along the second floor of the unit. The master suite… looked a show room. Everything meticulously put into place and sterile. The bathroom looked even worse. There wasn’t the sliest hint of soap scum and mold scrubbed away. It just wasn’t there.

He stood in the shadows of the hall and listened to Prompto’s scribbling. He wasn’t muttering anything, so he just left him be and went explore his room.

It was cozy. There really wasn’t another word to describe it. Maybe childish, but… that’s didn’t completely describe the atmosphere. The bed was filled with pillows and stuffed creatures and animals; that was certainly childish. But the rest of the room. There were books, both fiction and nonfiction and school books stacked around. There was a computer with fairly decent specks set up. There was also… A camera. A very nice camera was tucked away in the closet filled with clothes mend over and over. He took it down and turned it on.

So, you did take the pictures.

There were dozens of shots of each location on the camera. Prompto had gone through and been focused on finding the best angel… or ones that complimented each other. Kunsel knew little about photography besides what could be ascertained for intel gathering, but the way the images had just the slightest changes…

…He was happy.

He was warm and happy and it felt minorly ridiculous. It was just a paperweight.

…

…

But... well, he could return the favor. He knew there was a large event coming up at one of the art galleries. A few of the Glaives and Crownsguards were talking about it. He knew that tickets were expensive, but he could easily steal two. That way, Prompto and his Highness could go together.

He slipped out of the room when he heard Prompto coming back up. He went through the downstairs window and inspected the papers. It was a budget. The budget of someone living on a deficit. The math was impressive. The meal budget was incredibly strict with most of the expensive items, meat, fresh fruits and vegetables, all cut out in favor of canned and frozen goods. No sweets or treats. He understood the necessity, but…

…Prompto had parents.

Parents who were wealthy business partners and did extensive international business. Kunsel was more than certain their influence was one reason the young adult was allowed to befriend the Prince. Businesses after all could be equated to running small countries if they were large enough.

Shinra certainly was.

Why were they not… Was this a test? To see if their son was ready for independence?

He knew that this was done in the orphanage. The older you got, the smaller your portion of food as they expected you to scrap and find and beg for more. Or to get a job; though you had to be careful with that. Most of the workers would steal the wages of the children and young adults who worked.

But… Prompto’s parents were rich. Easily living in the top twenty percent of the society. There was no reason for such tests with that much money. Unless, they felt he was squandering it. But even then, it was silly of them to risk such a close contact to the King. If Prompto said the wrong word, then it could crumble down.

…

…

Kunsel took pictures of everything and departed the area. He would need to keep an eye on the situation and see how he could potentially use Mr. and Mrs. Argentum—

Movement.

Calculated, controlled movement.

A spy.

Kunsel leapt up the side of a building and followed the spy across the town to the poor parts of the city. He observed the spy from one of his safehouses as he changed into more appropriate clothing. The amount of clothes given to him during the first visit to the bar was probably one of the best gifts he could’ve been given. He pulled the hood up on one of the jackets and slipped onto the street. He followed at a decent pace.

The spy went into a bar blaring loud music. It reeked of sex and drugs.

…And they were fucking charging people to be let in.

If there was ever a difference Kunsel was hoping to find between the two worlds, cover charges would be one.

He slipped around the building and went into the upper back window while a couple of a guards were distracted by a prostitute.

Surprisingly, the music was far quieter inside the back than he would’ve thought. The attic was dusty and dirty, but it did have an excellent vent system that carried the conversations from several different rooms. And, some of the vents were even positioned nicely enough that he was able to get the contents of an entire room.

And there was a lot happening in each room.

So, Kunsel set up cameras and mics around each vent and looked for his spy… who was in a room where they were only speaking Gralean. The one language he hadn’t had a chance to fully understand.

Of fucking course, this would be his luck.

At least the maps are in clear view.

He set up a recorder that he’d translate later and focused on the using the maps, what papers were in sight, voice tone, and body language to try and understand what this spy wanted.

“…Glauca…”

Kunsel froze. No need for a translator for that name.

…More than being surprised, he was curious. 

“…Well, Ulldor?”

“I-I don’t fucking know! I know that we have a spy from the inside! That’s it! That’s it!”

“…I believe you.”

“Thank the—What stop! Sto—”

“Why? No need for such idiocy to pollute future generations.”

...While he'd need to translate the materials to confirm if Glauca was one the mole was reporting to... it didn't make sense. Having someone report to the very top... that was a potential logistical disaster. 

...Or, the person was within their organization. Deep cover. 

…

…

Fuck.

He needed more information because the records in the Citadel were pitiful.

…He needed contacts.

…

…

Nyx did say that he wanted him to get know more of this world…

Chapter Text

The Nebulawood was something of a paradise for Kunsel.

A dense forest with thick undergrowth. He was able to move silently from above and below and the trees were so close together he could seamlessly transition. The mist was just an atmospheric bonus. He was asked to scout around and was given permission to stay away from camp as long as he radioed in. It was so reminiscent of being in Shinra, save that his current captors were much more idiotic.

Well, he was more than happy to capitalize on that.

Currently, he was in non-descriptive clothes and had colored contacts in to dull the Mako glow. His first target was below.

Aranea Highighwind, Commodore of the Niflheim Empire's Third Army Corps 87th Airborne Unit, of the Niflheim Empire and fairly close to two of his other targets, Loqui Tummelt and Ravus Nox Fleuret. While Kunsel typically liked to go straight to the top to get information in a time crunch, this world… It wasn’t like Shinra. The rulers were different, and it made him want to scream a bit. Idiots who rarely made sense and procedures that had so many caveats that they were hardly worth writing down.

Stop it. Focus on the mission.

He was currently above Highwind’s encampment. She was apathetic, but well connected and her loyalty was tied to the money received—regardless of who was paying her—and her two right-hand men, Biggs Callux and Wedge Kincaid. Kunsel could use that to his advantage to try and learn what she knew about his other targets and why Glauca’s name kept coming up in Niflheim conversations involving Insomnia.

All three were currently separated from the main Unit, just as he planned. A few simple calls and some… mildly mauled grunts were a decent combination for him to get the leaders to scout the area alone and to learn a bit more about them. Kincaid was aligned with Highwind in having a cool temper and being more rational in his emotions, but Callux was hot tempered. Hot tempered and bold. However, the fact that all three went ahead of their men showed some type of compassion. Using them would be easy.

Kunsel had already made his way through their camp plating bugs and mics in all their equipment and gear. He also strategically placed a file just a few paces behind Highwind. Now, he waited for Kincaid to sit further away from the group. It wasn’t long before the man moved. Kunsel jumped down and pinned the man. He wasn’t going to suffocate him, but with the right movement he’s easily break his spine. And then if he just a little deeper, he’d be able to break a rib into his lungs.

Of course, he wasn’t expecting them to know that, so he had a loaded gun out and pointed directly at the back of the man’s skull. The safety was on, naturally. He wanted to show some good faith.

“Good evening, Commodore Highwind, Captain Callux, and Captain Kincaid. Captain Kincaid, I do hope you’ll forgive the abrupt intrusion and uncomfortable position. If we all can keep this conversation brief, then I’ll be more than happy to step aside.”

“Easy words for the person pointing a gun,” Highwind coolly responded, narrowing her eyes. Callux was spitting Gralean insults, looking cartoonishly angry. “Never thought I’d see the Lucians stoop to these tactics.”

“I have yet to specify my employer.”

“Really? The gorilla groups or rag tag bandits can afford someone like you? Please don’t waste my time.” She tensed and put her weight on her back foot. Kunsel didn’t move for now. No reason to let on anything yet. “After all, you were a part of the skirmish that liberated an assault ship.”

…Well… fuck. He’d really hoped that he’d managed to keep his face down enough to avoid cam—

Callux and Kindcaid twitched at the same time, and he let the other knock him off. He recovered and held up his hands. This could work. Them thinking he was green.

“Tie him up,” Highwind commanded.

The ties were painfully weak. Honestly… these fuckers were just annoying him.

But, he had a job to do.

“So, what are you doing all the way out here, Glaive?” Highwind asked, walking up to him.

“I’m simply here to follow-up on some information previously gathered. All I would like is a short confirmation, ma’am.”

“I can make it shorter. Fuck off.”

Kunsel gave a short smile.

“That could make it shorter, but I am here for information, and I am not willing to leave without it.”

“You’re tied up without back-up,” the Commodore dryly said, but her eyes were intense. At least she could tell a threat when she saw one. And that… wasn’t good. “I’m curious as to your plan.”

“Break out and then put a knife on the eye of Kincaid.” The other two laughed while Highwind smirked.

“Astrals, I hate green, cocky brats,” she muttered in Gralean.

Kunsel relaxed a bit and started to pick the lock. It took a while to learn, but there was a way to move the hands without moving his arms or shoulders.

“Of course, sweetie. Though, do you even know what’s in these woods?”

“Rumor says a Dead Eye. Very curious if its reputation precedes it or not.” He said with a grin.

“You cocky cunt—”

That’s an oxymoron.

“—that beast would barely make a snack out of you,” Callux laughed at him. “Be good, and maybe we’ll put you in a tree.”

“I’d enjoy the view,” he quipped back as Kincaid moved slightly toward him. All he needed was for Highwind to move.

It only took her another few minutes, but she did.

He felt the restraints fall and moved. He put the restraints on Kincaid had a knife on his eye, just like he promise—

“You fucker!”

He stood perfectly still as the bullet entered his leg.

He could hear all three hearts jump at his nonreaction.

“Please, Captain Callux, I understand your concern for your friend, but actions like that will not help anyone. I am trying to be agreeable.”

“You---You have a godsdamned knife in his eye!”

“Do you need to visit an optometrist, Captain? It’s on his eye, not in it.”

“Enough,” Highwind cut him off, maintaining a stern look. But Kunsel could easily see the worry in her eyes. “What do you want to know?”

“During the Norduscaen Blockade skirmish, the Niflheim troops were more than prepared for the Kingsglaives’ assault. It was a perfect match. I’m curious as to how that happened.”

“A normal fight is why you’re here? A fight that our side ended up losing?” The Commodore looked like she wanted to roll her eyes. It was a good act, but the inflection of tone needed clear work. So, he smiled.

“Commodore, I believe you’re the one wasting time now.”

“I bet that’s a concern. How’s the leg?”

“More than manageable, thank you for asking,” Kunsel smoothly replied. “However, I do not appreciate side chat that doesn’t contribute to the main point. So, if I may offer an incentive?”

“You think you have blackmail on me?” Highwind asked with a raised eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.”

“How so?”

“Well… if I had to assume, you’ll bring up my excursions and contracts outside the Empire. I’m a mercenary by trade. The Empire is more than aware that I may work with the Hunters from time to time.”

“I’ll admit, I am surprised by that,” Kunsel said, letting some emotion color his tone. He waited three beats. “So, they’re aware that you saved the lives of four Kingsglaives and two Crownsguards including Monica Elshett?”

Silence.

Dead silence.

“Please see the folder behind you for the copies.”

He enjoyed the shock in her eyes and the raw fury radiating from Kincaid and Callux. Everything all neatly into place. The only thing more settling was time spent with Cloud and Zack. He met her gaze and watched her try and decipher him.

She settled on uneasiness, and he hid a smile. For all his greasiness, he was glad that one of Ulldor’s subordinates had this piece of blackmail tucked away and hadn’t used it yet. After nearly dying at the hands of the pig, he was more than happy with the idea of making his commanding officers’ life a touch more difficult.

And Kunsel certainly held up his end of the deal, just… in a different way than agreed upon. However, from the overall silence in that area, he assumed the man was more than happy with the outcome.

“…The Lucians have a mole.”

“Would I be here if they didn’t, ma’am?”

Something shifted in her eyes and she… almost looked relaxed.

“I don’t know who it is, but I know they report to General Glauca; he’s the one who sends down the reports. If you want to know more, then you’ll need to work your way up to him, because no one knows what his spies look like. Though... there's a rumor he's double-dipping by doing work for Tummelt on the side. No proof or Glauca would've killed him by now."

And with Tummelt being favored by the Emperor, even the General would solid evidence for that accusation. Or... he's purposefully letting the spy do the work.

Tummelt was a hot-headed, arrogant bastard that had the same aura of Rufus Shinra. 

...Yeah, Kunsel would more than enjoy 'talking' to him.

“Thank you for being so generous with your information Commodore Highwind,” he said politely, putting the knife down. “I will follow-up on this information. If the results pan out, I will send you the negatives of the images for you to dispose of.”

“Right. What else do you want?”

“More conversations like this… minus the bullets and me having to step on your men. I hope your wrists are alright, Captain.”

The other flipped him off after Callux took off the restraints.

“A more than natural response,” he smoothly replied. “You’re answer, Commodore?”

“…You think I’m going to happily feed you information while you hold blackmail over?” Her body language was more than annoyed.

“Of course not, I am more than happy to give you information as well,” Kunsel replied. “…Especially concerning refugee locations from Eusciello.”

That caused her to pause.

“…When did the Glaives start keeping intel officers in-house?”

Her behavior was completely relaxed. Calm.

Finally, he was making progress.

“I’m just a recent acquisition.”

I know I’m failing you both, but this is something. This is something. I promise; I’ll make it something.

Chapter Text

“Morning, sleeping beauty!”

Fuck off.

“Aw, look who’s finally awake.”

Fuck you.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t think he actually slept.”

Seriously, fuck you.

Kunsel opened his eyes and glared at the offending fuckers. Nyx and Pelna just grinned at him, while Ostium fully laughed. He flipped him off and all of the fuckers just laughed at him as he trudged to the bathroom.

After the incident in the Nebulawoods, Kunsel thought that he’d be able to get on the next campaign, where Tummelt was supposed to be. However, Drautos pulled him and Nyx back and now he was just running in circles. It had been three weeks and now Tummelt was even in a more difficult location to get to. A grouping of islands called Accordo.

He tried to find a way to pass the time. One hour he was working on finding a way back to Zack and Cloud, and then the next he was pouring over notes trying to find the mole. He was more than a little pissed at everything and everyone.

“Come on, Kuns. Have some coffee and some food.”

He was at the table.

He… he was in the bathroom. And now he was at the table, fully dressed.

…

…Fuck, he was going to have to run another set of test.

It wasn’t the needles that bothered him. After all, the Turk training made him pretty proficient at mutilating himself when the occasion called for it. It was… it was that he couldn’t tell a difference. The tests results always came back looking the same. He really couldn’t accurately measure his Mako levels without a sample of pure Mako to use, but nothing seemed off. Not at all.

More than once, Kunsel had wondered if his body was… If the lack of a Lifestream was going to hurt him. Or… if… if…

…

…No. No, he wasn’t like them. He was… He didn’t know what he was, but he wasn’t them. He would never be like them.

“Don’t pout, pretty boy,” Nyx said, putting coffee down in front of him. “We all have slow mornings.”

“I do not pout.”

All three Glaives just stared at him.

And then burst into laughter.

Kunsel glared at them over his coffee.

“Any way, what are we doing today?” Pelna asked, leaning on the table. “Heard Drautos is out for a bit, so we’ve got some chance for some fun.”

“The Marshal and Shield Amicitia are still present,” Kunsel said. And they started snickering again. Bastards.

“Pretty boy, they’re Crownsguards. They don’t really give much of fuck about us.”

“They’re all too busy making sure the good ‘Crown citizens’ are safe from all of us ‘foreigners.’”

“Hey, I’ll take the longer leash,” Pelna said, moving closer to wrap an arm around him. “After seeing how they treated you, I’m more than happy to be ignored.”

…What? They didn’t even do anything to me.

He just shrugged and sipped his copy.

“…Seriously? This is basically Galahd. Anything goes. No need to continue not saying you weren’t pissed about anything,” Ostium all but gruffed out. “Come on, you can’t not be pissed.”

“It was perfectly reasonable,” Kunsel calmly replied… and only got stares from the others. Fuck—What was wrong with these people? “I mean, the only annoying part was Nyx.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Nyx said with no heat and smile as the other two snickered.

However, there was a wariness in Ostium’s eyes. Kunsel would need to investigate further.

“So… plans?”

Kunsel fell back a bit as they sorted out their plans. He didn’t need to pay attention as he wasn’t going to be joining them.

He was going to the University. He had to see if they had new evidence.

…They had to have something. Something. Anything.

Kunsel washed up some dishes as they chatted a bit before leaving.

“Hey. You were pretty quiet. Everything okay?” Nyx asked, leaving against the counter.

“I’m fine.” Kunsel put down the last dish. “Actually, I’m heading over to the—”

“Atticus texted earlier. His Uncle doesn’t have any more news, Kunsel.”

He turned off the water, keeping his face perfectly composed.

“I imaged as much,” he said after a minute. “However, there are still notes that I want to go over.”

“…Kunsel, you’ve looked at all the notes at least—”

“I appreciate your concern, but I am fine. Please tell Pelna and Ostium that I will see them later. Or tomorrow.”

“Hey, wait a damn minute!” Nyx grabbed his arm and forced him to turn around. “I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life, but you need to give them time to work this out. They’re not just going to have answer after a couple of month—”

“Eleven.”

The apartment was silent.

“…It’s been eleven months.” Nyx had an undecipherable expression that Kunsel hated. “Now, if you will excuse me…”

His guard didn’t try to stop him from leaving again. He barely registered any of the others trying to talk to him on his way out. All he wanted was to get to the University. That was it. Get there and spend the rest of the day pouring over the notes. That’s what he needed. Because more than traitors and stupid fucks and any of the people here he needed to get back because it’s been eleven months and…

…

….

And he was going to get answers.

That was that.

***

Of fucking course, the entire godsdamned department would be out sick.

Of all the things that Kunsel was hoping that wouldn’t transcend world, carless science accidents would be one of them.

Though… how the physics department got sick when they’re separated from the main building…

…No. He didn’t have time for small issues like this.

Or… he shouldn’t. But he’d gone through his notes seventy-nine times this week alone. Kunsel was… He needed answers. He needed them but he was running out of options that he could do himself or to himself.

Because it’s been eleven months.

And he needed to get back.

It was strange, being able to walk through the city without anyone tailing him. Kunsel was fairly certain that someone would’ve followed him, but there wasn’t anything. And he’d been here long enough to know that their security measures were feeble at best.

The freedom…

…

…

Freedom should be like breathing in a cool breeze on a warm day. Easy. Natural. But everything about walking through the city by himself in broad daylight was suffocating.

Guess I can just go back and work my way through Highwind’s notes.

Everything on that front was coming together rather nicely. He even had a decent lead on where to corner Tummelt. All he needed to do was not piss off Drautos and he’d get back out in the field. Though what the fuck he did the first time was beyond him.

…If being near Ulric is going to cause problems, then I need to create distance.

His stomach churned as made his way into one of the nicer quarters of the city. He’d be able to get something to eat and be fine. The cafes were generally quiet.

…Someone hates me.

A small place that Nyx and Pelna had taken him to was completely packed. He groaned and pushed his way to the front.

“Hel—Oh, Kunsel! Nice to see you!”

“Hello, Kim. How are you?” he politely replied to their usual coffee maker.

“Doing good! Just wish I picked a different shift…” she said with a slightly forced laughed, looking at the crowd. Kunsel smiled sympathetically and put an extra-large tip in the jar. “Aw, you’re too sweet Kuns. Want the same as last time? Or can I make you one of the seasonal drinks?”

“The same. Thank you.”

“Got it.”

The three-minute order took twenty minutes.

“What’s with the crowd?” he asked as Kim managed to give him the drink and food throw the increasing number of bodies.

“Chance to win tickets to a private exhibition and have a meet and greet with the artists. Real fancy shit. Including drinks and food. Got everyone and their mother out here trying to have a good time. The show is tonight and these are the last tickets left.”

Kunsel nodded and watched different people go for a chance to win the tickets. He’d seen similar behavior several times, but couldn’t make sense of it here. These people… they lived a fairly decent city. It was cleaner than most and there wasn’t a threat of fresh water running out or food disappearing. There was no hardship. So, it didn’t make any sense for them all to be swarming the idiots who chose a crowded place.

"Hey, Kuns?" He looked back to Kim. "Tell the Galahdian boys they need to stop by more if they want the sugar cookies to stay on the menu. They're really the only ones who buy them."

"I will," he said with a smile. He was turned to leave, when he saw a few examples of the art. Including, some photography.

Some very nice examples of landscape photography.

…

…Well, this would let him follow-up on that particular lead…

***

“This—this is amazing! Thank you so much, Kingsglaive Zelda!”

Prompto looked like he was ready to pass out as they walked into the event. He’d been on this edge of excited anxiety since Kunsel gave him the tickets. He didn’t fully understand why the young adult was so nervous, but he was glad to give him the opportunity to mingle and make connections.

“It’s not a problem, Prompto. But, please, just call me Kunsel.”

“Of course, Kingsglaive Kunsel!”

Though… he was still incredibly confused about why he was invited. Kunsel was more than certain that Prompto would ask his Highness as they were, according to multiple files and records, close friends. But he didn’t. Prompto asked him instead. Insisted on it. And… he looked so much like Cloud, Kunsel couldn’t say no.

So now, he was dressed in nice clothes that Nyx ‘borrowed without a specified return date’ from Atticus. It wasn’t a full suite, but it was close. He knew he needed to look professional, but it was just close enough to Turk territory that he wanted to break something. Fortunately, Prompto’s infectious happiness kept the darker thoughts back just far enough that he didn’t feel the need to act on them. Yet.

Mostly because he was being watched.

The tailing started about an hour ago. He’d yet to see who exactly it was. Or hear them. Whoever, they were, they were staying quiet. Probably communicating via text.

He grabbed some water from a waiter and walked over to Prompto who was staring intently at a night shot.

“…Like this one?”

“Yep!” Prompto bounced on his heels. “This is an infrared night shot! We’re going to do some day shot in class, but if I can find a way to get a good night shot, then maybe the teacher will see I’m serious about this!”

“…About photography?”

“Yeah!” Prompto winced slightly as other people looked at him with disgruntled eyes. “…I… I like it. A lot. And not just, you know, for fun.”

“Do you want to start a business?” Kunsel asked softly, moving closer to him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I… I really want to try it. Or, at least figure out if there’s something else I can do with photography for a job. I know the market is kind of saturated, but I love it. I… I really do.”

“Then you’ll figure it out,” Kunsel said, gently squeezing his shoulder, with small smile. “It may not end up exactly what you want, but it’s good to know what you want to do. To have a plan and then back-up plans. Easier when life… doesn’t go the way you think it will.”

Prompto looked at him like a little kid seeing a First Class and Kunsel had to check himself to not just hug him. He wasn’t Cloud. Wasn’t someone he fully knew. He… he needed to keep a distance.

“Oh, look! The artists are here.”

Kunsel stood back a bit while Prompto talked to a few of the artists and showed them some of his photography. Two of the fuckers were barely interested, but the third one actually sat down with him and went over a few pieces in detail. Kunsel looked up the two fuckers and smiled quietly.

Yeah, he could make their lives miserable.

After about another half hour, the exhibit was wrapping up. Kunsel purchased a few limited prints for Prompto and discreetly tucked them away for later.

“Hey, Kunsel!”

“All done?”

“Yeah, I had the best conversation with Ophelia…”

Kunsel hummed and smiled as he walked Prompto back to his apartment. He chatted about ISOs and color checking and Kunsel was… He was happy. Happy for Prompto. Happy that the night went well. Even with the damn tail.

And then he was sick to his stomach. What fucking right did he have to be happy when Zack and Cloud were being tortured every single day? None. He… He—

“Kunsel?”

Fuck.

He couldn’t do this. Not now. He… Control. Focus. The things he could control. The things he could manipulate. That was what mattered.

“I’m good, Prompto,” Kunsel replied. “…Why did you want me to come with you? I thought you might want to go with his Highness.”

“Oh, well… Noct would’ve gone with me. Easily. But… I wanted to talk to you. I…” Prompto stopped and shifted between his feet. “I wanted to talk more to you. To… to get to say ‘thank you.’”

“You did that already. I have the paperweight. I liked it. A lot.”

“Really? Really, really?”

“Really, really,” he said and Prompto danced like a happy, well fed Chocobo.

“I’m so glad! I… Thank you, Kunsel.”

“It’s not a problem,” Kunsel said as they approached his apartment.

“Uh, I can go from here!” Prompto said, stopping him from entering the building.

Well, this isn’t suspicious in the slightest.

“I’d appreciate going up. It would be irresponsible of me to not speak to your parents since I watched you all evening. They often work late, yes? That’s what you said when I couldn’t speak to them earlier this afternoon. I’d appreciate meeting them in person; and they probably want to know the person who you were out with.”

“Uh, they’ll be tired. It’s okay!”

Kunsel knew kids who didn’t want people to meet their parents. There was usually fear when they acted like this, because the parents were beating them. And there was fear in Prompto, but more than fear… embarrassment.

“…Prompto, as a Kingsglaive, I really need to speak with them.”

He did not want to pull rank, but it was the fastest way to get people to fold.

“I… They…” Prompto shifted. “…They left earlier today on business trip. To Altissia.”

“They’re out of the country?” Kunsel repeated. Prompto nodded. “…Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I… You seemed like you needed to talk to them and I… I didn’t want you to say ‘No’ to the exhibit,” the young man said softly. “I’m sorry for lying.”

“It’s okay. Well… It’s not the most okay, but… while I’m responsible for you when it’s just us, I am not an official guardian or superior in any way. I couldn’t tell you ‘no.’”

“Oh. Oh, okay… Still, sorry.”

“Apology more than accepted,” Kunsel said gently, hoping the young man would perk up. Him looking sad just hurt too much. “I had fun. Thank you for letting me join you.”

“Yeah! Totally! I mean, you won the tickets so… Yeah!”

Kunsel joined in with the slightly awkward laughing and waved goodbye to Prompto. He felt the tail continue all the way back to the Citadel. Fortunately, they left him and he was able to use the cameras he installed to find…

…

…

Winifred Salvus.

Kunsel took refuge in one of the supply closets that connected to one of his small safe rooms. He watched her go to the office of Marshal Leonis. The audio was weak, but it wasn’t the worst in the world.

“Sir.”

“Salvus. Report?”

“All good. Zelda took Prompto to an exclusive exhibition and meet and greet. From what I gather, he won tickets to repay him for the gift Prompto gave him for saving him. Sort of a unending cycle of thank you.”

“Salvus.”

“Right. Sorry.” Kunsel wasn’t expecting this level of familiarity, but it was good to know that they had a relationship beyond the purely professional. “Anyways, they went to the exhibition and then Kunsel walked him home. I think that Kunsel wanted to go up to his apartment to talk his parents from what I could get from reading his lips. However, Prompto told him about his folks being out of town.”

“…They’re gone again?”

Kunsel immediately started taking more notes. That tone… Dark. Angry. Protective. He’d heard it a few times in life. It could be faked—he knew that all too well—but the body language, and his reaction to the young man almost getting hurt…

Cor Leonis cared about Prompto Argentum.  

“A friend in Altissia confirmed they’re on a business trip.”

“…Right. Thank you, Salvus. Dismissed.”

The intel officer left and Kunsel watched the Marshal add a hole to his office wall.

“…Those fuckers.”

Kunsel watched the Marshal a little while longer before cutting the video. He knew that they weren’t going to find the cameras installed around the Citadel, but habits from Shinra died hard.

So, Leonis cares about Prompto in a personal way and dislikes his adoptive parents for being out of town. He also has a more than professional relationship with Salvus. Prompto is embarrassed and slightly afraid of his parents being gone all the time.

…And the Argentums are in Altissia.

Near Loqi Tummelt.

Kunsel smiled slightly.

Now… all he needed was to a find a way to get to Accordo.

***

“Hey, Kunsel. Got a sec?”

He paused at the door to his room, before looking back at Nyx. The man sounded both serious and relaxed all at once.

“Yes? What’s up?”

“How do you feel about a trip out of town?

“…You mean a mission?”

“No. Why—” Nyx looked at him like he was a mystery. “…Not everything is business. I mean, yeah, there’s the war, but’s then been ongoing for centuries.”

Kunsel nodded, playing along with whatever lie Nyx was saying. 

“Anyway, this would be more of R&R. I haven’t used any in a while and actually ended up with a doc’s orders to get some. Want to come with me and couple others who got yelled at?”

“…Where would we be going?” Kunsel slowly asked. This had to be a test. No one would ever let a prisoner just take R&R.

“Altissia.”

Chapter Text

Kunsel liked to be well read.

In literature. Politics. Mathematics and engineering. In anything that could let him have the upper hand while crawling his way toward some power in Shinra.

The most quiet and yet most obvious of his obsessions was history. He would admit to spending time imaging how each culture looked at the height of its time. Even for those with status even fifty years ago… photographs were difficult to come by. The history of his own people was understandable to many. But he read and researched so, so much more. Cosmo Canyon. Nibelheim. Gongaga. The Northern Crater.

And the Forgotten City.

He’d spent years studying the culture of the Cetra even before learning about Aerith. The fragments of the culture were woven into an intricate mythos that was more propaganda than truth, but kernels existed everywhere, no matter how hard others tried to bury them. They always sprouted, even if they looked like weeds.

As Kunsel walked around Accordo capital, he was more than certain that this city and the Forgotten City shared the same atmosphere. Or he hoped they would.

Altissia was unlike any city he’d ever been in. It was… ethereal. Fantastical. Almost unreal.

Beautiful buildings with detailed architecture. Music on every corner. Artists. Restaurants all over the place. Gardens. Crysal clear water that one could drink. Literally; he ran a test on it.

Honestly, he was grateful for the Niflheim airships flying around to remind him that this places was real. Real and vulnerable, just like any everything.

“…If this place is controlled by the Empire, then why are we here?”

“Because the city has a fuckton of business with Insomnia and the Lucian Kingdom,” Nyx smoothly replied. “And all that cash goes straight to the capital. They hate us, but they’re gonna squeeze as much cash as possible out of us. And, besides, we’re all in civvies. No one’s gonna look twice as long as we play nice and spend a decent amount of money.”

His roommate/guard looked weird out of uniform and without a weapon. Kunsel was ordered not to bring a weapon as well.

Thank Shiva pocketknives didn’t really count as weapons. Or the pens filled with poison.

“They have to have around thirty to fifty percent of our faces in a database.”

“…And we’re not causing shit, so they won’t either,” Nyx replied, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, just relax a bit. This is supposed to be fun.”

Kunsel hummed slightly and followed him through the streets to their hotel. Pelna, Altius, Ostium and the Miller-Vernons were here. The married couple was here on a preplanned vacation. The rest were on ordered R&R.

Well. Fun…

He homed in on the main administrative building and smiled slightly. Fun, indeed.

As the others talked around him, he started to see how many of the routes on the maps were feasible in real life. In a lovely twist of fate, the intricate architecture would assist in him running along the rooftops and scaling the walls without being more than incorporated shadow.

And he was here for one week.

…This is city was going to be his playgroun—

“Yo, here’s your room key.”

What?

“Uh… don’t you mean our room?” he asked with a polite smile, trying to restart his brain.

“Nope. Happy first mandatory R&R!” Nyx passed him a key. “You get a room to yourself! I know you love me—”

No, I don’t.

“—but I think we both could use a break. So, you get your own room. And, because I’m such a wonderful planner, I even got you a breathtaking view of the city.”

“Can’t visit Altissia without a room with a view!” Altius said extravagantly and the medic laughed. Clearly an inside joke.

“So, go enjoy yourself.” Nyx’s expression turned soft as the others were distracted. “I’ll be right across the hall if you need me for anything. Just knock and come on in, kay?”

“The Miller-Vernon rule?” He said softly and immediately bit into his cheek.

“You know it.” Nyx said with a smile and a wink. He saw the pair in question give him quick smiles and absolutely hated everything.

…Bahamut’s balls, he wished his stomach would settle.

Kunsel grabbed his bag and made his excuses to see the room.

It… It was really his own.

A full-sized bed took up part of the room. There was a small TV as well along with a bookcase filled with Altissian literature. And the view…

“Come on, Kuns! It has to be this one!”

“I don’t know, Zack.”

“Nope! It’s so this one! It’s the beach, so we need to be right on the water. Be able to walk out and touch the sand. It’s what Cloud deserves on first trip!”

He sat down the bag and moved things around in it and found his EMP. He always carried one, just in case. He pressed it and did started searching.

Nothing. Not a fucking thing.

His heart raced and white noise screamed in his ears. He was alone, but there were no cameras or bugs anywhere but there had to be a test a trap there was always one always what was he miss—

“Kunsel?” He looked over to the door and immediately stood up—

When did I sit down?

“Yeah, Nyx?”

The door opened and the other Gl—Nyx walked in.

“We’re about to—You okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine,” Kunsel automated with a smile.

It wasn’t a lie. He was going to raid another government’s vault and find a way to get over to where Tummelt was rumored to be. And looked into Prompto’s parents.

“…Do you not like the room?”

“Wha—It’s fine. It’s… it’s nice.” Why did the words feel hollow. He… He was better than this. “The view is really good. Thank you for this.”

Nyx watched him for just shy of a full minute, before looking out the window himself.

“Yeah, it’s a good view.” The silence hung in the air and Kunsel could feel every muscle in body relaxing. He could also see a few of Nyx’s relax as well. “So, Pel and Lib want to do some standard tourist nonsense. Gondola rides and art and all that. You in?”

“Sure.”

More time around the city was always going to be useful.

After all, this was not a vacation.

This was business.

***

Kunsel was pleasantly surprised that Altissia’s main administrative buildings had better security than the Citadel. He enjoyed actually having to time some of his movements. He could only assume it was the influence of the Empire.

He grinned quietly as he sorted through the latest intelligence. Troop movements. Weapons reports. Designs of the airships with clear weaknesses. All well worth the travel time.

Then, there were the personnel notes.

Kunsel was almost fully smiling as he took pictures and made notes of the official reports. All of the intel was worth something but knowing that the commanders who wrote the notes were still in town, was doubly good. Altissia was a vacation destination, and there were lots of small bars and allies. He’d be able to compare the official notes to drunken gossip to have the best intel. And there were three commanders here who were reported to hate Highwind. Having more blackmail on the Commodore was only going to work in his favor—

Kunsel paused as one of the radios started to go off.

He moved over to it and mentally cursed that this world’s technology was more advanced than Gaia’s. While certain aspects of the Science department were getting close, they weren’t anywhere this level, which meant he was playing catch-up. At least he was a fast learner.

After making a secure line he was able to listen in.

“And is there a good reason I’m being pulled back to the capital?” came a younger, obnoxious, almost Rufus-esque voice.

“Now, Brigadier Gen—”

“Right. So, no good godsdamned reason, then. I’d like to talk to someone competent. Please.”

Yep. Loqi Tummelt. One of the main contacts he could use.

…Who was now being pulled out of Accordo.

Where the fuck are you?

If he worked fast enough, he could track the signal and see where Tummelt was located. If he didn’t leave until tomorrow, then he might have enough time to catch him.

“Hello, Tummelt.”

“Commander Fleuret.”

Oh fuck.

Honestly, Kunsel hadn’t expected to anywhere near the Prince of Tenebrae for at least another few months. It didn’t matter the friendship between the Princess and Prince Noctis; Tenebrae was difficult to get to without time and transportation. And with the leash on him, Kunsel was limited in those areas.

“Any reason you’re being petty?”
“There are Lucian rats here.”

“There are al—”

“Kingsglaives are here. Including their most recent acquisition.”

Kunsel felt mildly vindicated. After his encounter with Highwind, he knew his face was in their databases.

“They’re not going to start a fight in Altissia of all places. It’s an unofficial neutral ground.”

“But that fucker took an airship! Glauca let him—”

What?

“Enough, Brigadier General.” There was silence. So, some decorum was followed.

But what do they mean Glauca ‘let me?’ He wasn’t… Was he there? Was he watching the fight in secret? Or, was this him not doing anything after the fight…

…

…No, no the tone—

“General Glauca knows this dimension traveler better than either of us.”

Shit.

How ?

The only ones who knew about him…

…

…

…Fuck, it wasn’t even one or two people. It was basically the entire Citadel, plus the residences of Hammerheads, along with the several at the University. The information was supposed to be classified, but any one of them could’ve slipped up or been overheard.

“He’s cleverer than he lets on.”

“Obviously.”

Kunsel’s stomach clenched at how much the Tenebrae Prince sounded like Genesis.

“Either way, he’s Glauca’s to deal with. You’ve been ordered back to Gralea. This comes directly from the Emperor.”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuc—

“…Very well, your Highness. I will depart immediately. Please inform his Grace I will arrive well before dawn.”

Kunsel felt a tooth crack from how hard he clenched his jaw.

Tummelt was the main godsdamned reason that he was here in the first place and now he was gone. He would be the capital for who knows how fucking long, and…

…

…

And he still had intel.

He had others to listen to.

He knew more about Glauca and learned about Tummelt and Ravus.

He was fine.

He was gaining control.

He would have control.

Kunsel took a deep breath and started to go through the computers. He had about an hour before the others woke up. At least he could find the latest news…

…

…

He closed the report and then reopened it.

It was still the same.

…

…

. . .

Who the fuck destroyed an MT factory?

***

While Kunsel was thoroughly annoyed at the Emperor calling back Tummelt to the capital, he could still use the information. He already had learned that the bitchy Brigadier was favored, but direct communication from the High Commander… that was more than favored. That was… not quite respect, but an understanding. Knowledge formed in a less strict way than just learned about one another in a military setting.

Okay. So… Tummelt is… maybe a plaything? There’s no reports that the Emperor enjoys that… but Tummelt is pretty.

Or…

…

He’d seen similar actions between the Shinra’s, but there was no record of Tummelt and the Niflheim royal family having that connection. And if he was, then he’d be a higher rank.

That was how tha—

“Pretty boy?”

…Gods he was ready to get back to Insomnia. Somehow, sharing a room with Nyx gave him more freedom than being on mandatory R&R. Which was illogical and borderline insane, but everything in this world was.

“Give me a minute, Nyx.”

“You’ve already had ten extra! Hurry up!” Ostium bellowed out. Kunsel was happy for the closed door to roll his eyes.

The entire four days had been a complete bitch with everyone constantly wanting to be around each other despite the fact that were always near each other when they were at the barracks. He’d hoped to be able to sneak away more to gain more insight from the Niflheim guards posted in the city and break into the city’s University to try and gain access to their resources. He wasn’t expecting much as Insomnia’s libraries and archives were extensive, but every country had their own bias that warped their formats.

The plan had been to find quiet corners of the Library to study in during the day and then listen to the guards at night.

“Kunsel! For the love of Shiva!”

…And that had been blown to hell.

Like everything.

He growled lowly and finally left the room. Nyx, Libertus, and Pelna were all waiting for him.

“Late morning for you, pretty boy,” Nyx said, watching him like a scientist.

“Vacations are for sleeping in,” he said, thinking of Zack stumbling out of their bunks with the most chaotic hair.

That stopped after he became First.

“By the Astrals, you can be normal,” Altius said, walking down the hall. She smirked at him mischievously. “Didn’t think it was possible!”

“Sleep is important,” he neutrally responded. And it was a factual statement; for unenhanced individuals, anyways.

“That’s for the drive back. As for right now, we have fancy ass brunch to attend to. R&K are paying.”

Kunsel felt his progress disappearing as they walked to the restaurant.

…It didn’t make sense. Why give him a room alone if they were just going to drag him everywhere? Why have the room if there were no bugs? It should be a trap, but there wasn’t anything to give them evidence.

It didn’t make sense.

It—

…What in the fuck?

“Fuck yes! Oh—brunch is on pause, bitches we’re enjoying this!” Altius squealed out like a Sector One schoolgirl. She lightly grabbed his arm. “This is one Altissia’s best festivals! It’s their Founder’s Day holiday. Lots of parades and traditional food and music and all sorts of stuff relating to Altissia’s founding!”

“The whole city is pretty much gonna be a giant party,” Nyx added with a smile. “Lots of stalls and different events.”

“And so much good food and booze.”

Kunsel shifted to focus on the Vernon-Millers. The medic rolled his eyes at his husband’s words.

“We were wondering what was holding you all up.”

“Just making sure Kunsel gets to enjoy all that Altissia has to offer,” Pelna countered and then looked at him. “After all, you haven’t gotten to see much the world’s culture, have you?”

He was expecting his stomach to flip. But it didn’t.

“…No. No, I haven’t.”

“Let’s have some fun!” Ostium roared and as the other laughed and hollared.

It seemed like brunch was all but forgotten about as they all scattered around the street. Kunsel waited for one of them to grab him and dictate what happened.

It didn’t take long for Ostium to steer him toward one of the music vendors.

…

…Use this. Use this. Focus. Use this. Focus.

Focus .

…There were many Niflheim soldiers in the crowds. It would be okay. He could still listen in, while feigning interest. Two things at once would hardly be a problem. Especially since people were more likely to talk in a loud crowd than a quiet place.

For about an hour, the gossip was more confirming than intriguing, which allowed him to pacify the oth—

…

…The Argentums.

The Argentums were here.

“Right. Let’s head over to the—”

“The street performers.” Ostium and the explosive expert looked at him like he was a different person. “I… They look fun.”

Both looked at him with sickenly soft eyes that were also full of laughter. Gods, these people were annoying.

“Then to the performers!”

But he could deal with it if it meant that he could listen in to the Argentums.

For the most part they were droning on and about their business. While that was interesting, it wasn’t… it wasn’t giving him anything relating to Prompto.

Or… Well, they’re being detailed. They’re reciting old business information. Those tax numbers are twelve years old. That’s something.

“Oh! I forgot to ask, how is Prompto enjoying middle school?”

He’s in high scho—

“He fares well. At least we’re not getting more notes from his teachers.”

…Excuse me?

“The photos are nice. Though I do hope gets rid of the baby fat.”

He’s the size of a fucking sapling. What baby fat—

“We’re helping that with the budget. Can’t overeat if he doesn’t have money to buy sweets.”

“Aha! How lovely. He may dislike it, but he’ll thank you all later.”

“Of course, he will. We’re just trying to make sure he’s a… model citizen.”

…He could kill them. With the large crowds and main and back-up security cameras consistently being blocked by banners and signs, he could do it. One stab with his pen would do it. They’d dead within the hour. It was wonderfully slow working poison. Slow, but extraordinarily painful.

That… isn't an end, but a solution. Prompto is considered a child in this world—which is still weird to think about—and he’d be put in a foster home. Or an orphanage.

Kunsel would light himself on fire before putting an innocent person through that hell.

“Which act do like best?”
He glanced at explosive expert before looking back to the current performer, a juggler. Before this, there was a man dancing with fire.

“…I like the dances.”

“Really?” He forced himself to not tense as Pelna laid an arm across his shoulders. “Didn’t take you for a dancer.”

“One can appreciate things, without being them,” he boredly said. Ostium raised an eyebrow at him. “…They steps look simple, but they’re not. It’s something practiced a thousand times to look effortless.”

“…Yeah, and you’re not a dancer.”

Kunsel shrugged and half watched the Argentums walk out of the square. They’d briefly spoke about retiring to their rooms. There were only two hotels in that direction. They’d be easy to find.

“We’ve got a couple of clubs back home we alle enjoy. You should come out with us!” Pelna smiled brightly.

“I’ll think on it.”

That was a lie. The only time he danced was with Cloud or Zack.

And they weren’t here.

“Well, I think most of are starving, Rico. Where the hell is this amazing brunch place?”

Kunsel followed along, trying to keep an ear out for any goss—

…

…Mads. Mads Anttila. One of Tummelt’s trusted soldiers.

He shouldn’t be here. He always followed Tummelt.

…Why would the Emperor’s orders have Mads stay here?

Okay.

Time to see just how good the information from the guards are.

***

Altissia had few night clubs, so the ones that were there were large, crowded, and dark. The lights were multicolored and did little to show any real light. The music was incredibly loud, and everything reeked, but at least the corner he was in was a good vantage point.

And it let him be seen.

Kunsel sipped the far too expensive drink and kept an eye on Anttila’s group. His target had clocked him a few minutes after entering—so the gossip on what he liked was actually worth something—but hadn’t made a move. Kunsel was used to the drunks on the plate not waiting for anything, so he was a touch confused.

He downed the rest of the drink.

And then Anttila moved.

Oh. You think you can play the ‘gentleman.’ Cute.

Kunsel watched dancing and pretended to be surprised when Anttila appeared.

“Hello,” he said lowly, smoothly. He looked at the two drinks. “Long day?”

“Absolutely,” Antilla replied, emphasizing his rough accent. “Could be better with good company.”

“I saw you had plenty.”

“Quantity doesn’t equal quality,” he easily countered. “And it’s a waste for your drink to be empty.”

“I can agree to that.”

Kunsel smiled coyly as the other took a seat and handed him a drink. He took a sip and was surprised. It wasn’t drugged.

“So, what’s a pretty thing like you doing by yourself?”

“Have you never wanted to be alone in a crowd?” Kunsel said, leaning closer. “Good way to find interesting people.”

“I’m interesting?”

“To be determined.” He took another sip. “But it’s a good start.”

“That so?” Antilla moved closer and ran a hand down his arm.

“It is? Tell me, why do you have the crowd?”

“Boss is away, so we get to have some… fun.”

“Oh?” Kunsel tilted his head so the red light could catch on the metal loop on his collar. Antilla’s eyes went to it. “What kind of fun do you like?”

“I’m up for anything.”

“…Even if you’d be playing another’s game?” Kunsel bushed his hand on the man’s upper thigh.

Antilla grinned, eyes dark with desire, and pulled on the metal ring, so their faces were barely touching.

“You tell me.”

Kunsel knew this was going to happen. He just needed his head to be clear—

“Yo, jackass.”

Whathefuck?

Furia. When the fuck—

Furia and Pelna. What the actual fuck?

Kunsel kept his expression just slightly surprised at the two Glaives and prayed that his disguise skills would hold. He had on a wig, colored contacts, tight clothes, and decent make-up. He should be okay. They… they shouldn’t recognize him. Not with the shadows.

“Didn’t realize the Lucians hired fucking voyeurs.”

“Well, someone has to tell you when your men are being fucking jackasses,” Pelna drawled out. His eyes were annoyed when looking at the Gralean. They… they softened when looking at him—

No. No. Nonononononononono—

Antilla twitched, and Kunsel grabbed his arm. He knew the movement.

“No need to ruin the night,” he said softly and lowly. “After all, you can always come back.”

Kunsel would be gone.

He had to be gone.

“Listen to your friend. One of your boys has roofies on him. Might want to fix that before one of the guards does.” The sentences for those drugs were steep; even for their colonizers.

Antilla didn’t say anything but quickly left. Kunsel waited a few second and started to leave while the two were dis—

“Hey. Are you okay?” Pelna’s voice was soft. Soft and worried. “I promise I’m not being a creep. I just… Just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“We were fine. Though, the interruption was appropriate.”

“Okay. You just… I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“…So, the drug was a lie?”

“Nope, just killing two birds with one stone,” Furia said happily. His voice turned more serious. “But, really, are you—”

“I’m fine. Good night.”

He quickly walked toward the back entrance. He could hear them calling but ignored it. His heart and chest were on fire and his ears distorted. He couldn’t think. Not really. Everything… everything hurt. Kunsel felt like he was being electrocuted and numbed all at once and just needed-had to-to move. Run. Hide. Something. Anything.

He… fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! He was on a quiet rooftop of one of the floating restaurants. He—

Fuck!

Kunsel forced himself to take deep breaths, but it didn’t help. He—Fuck, he hadn’t felt like this since the first time in the POW camp. Since the first training with the Turks—where he learned just how much stronger he needed to be. It’s been eight years since that. He should be fine. He—fuck, why was he acting like a fucking child? He needed to calm down. To focus. Control. He had to have control. That was the most important thing. The only thing that mattered. Control kept him alive. Let him silently move up the ranks. He just…

Footsteps. Someone—

“Hello?” Kunsel frozen and pushed further back in the shadows. An older man—No. No, not just an older man. Weskham Armaugh. One of Regis Lucis Caelum’s older advisors. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you. I just… I heard you. Are you okay?”

Kunsel watched him walk around the roof. He… Fuck, why did these fuckers all have his eyes? His fake eyes.

“…Please, I just want to make sure you’re okay. You don’t have to come out, just… Let me know how you are.”

He was moving before he could stop himself. Armaugh looked surprised. He didn’t move over.

“…Rought night?”

“…Why do you care? What do you want?” Kunsel questioned back. He couldn’t sound intimidating if he tried. His voice was shot to hell.

“I heard someone struggling to breathe and crying on my roof. Of course, I was going to come over and see if I could help.”

“Why?”

“…I didn’t want you to be alone. I don’t know how much I can help, but at least… you wouldn’t be alone.”

Kunsel giggled hysterically, before slapping his hand over his mouth. The contact was audible. Armaugh moved a step and Kunsel flew back. The older man stopped. Kusel took a deep breath and removed his hand. He knew there would be a bruise. He could taste the blood on his lip.

“…It’s bullshit. People giving a fuck without wanting something is bullshit.”

“What have people wanted from you?”

His mind.

His culture.

His family.

His friends.

His body.

“Everything.”

“…That was wrong of them.”

Kunsel snorted.

“It was their right. People don’t stop. It’s stupid to expect it of them. It’s my job to stop them.”

“…What do you want from others?”

“Noth—”

…

…

…No. No, he wanted their resources. He was using them to get home. Getting close to them was the goal. Saving Pelna was a part of that goal. A fight would make them leave Altissia before he could get more info out of Attina. Out of the Argentums. That was it. That was it. And Pelna only saved him because he—

…

…

…He didn’t recognize him. He just… He just acted. Him and Furia just… They didn’t know him. He was just supposed to be a random person who’d get fucked for information. They were’t supposed to be there. To know him. And yet, they…

He was weak.

That had to be it. They saw the projected weakness and… And wanted to…

…

…

…Why did they want to help him? They didn’t know him. They had no reason to step in. The only logical reason would be one of them wanted to use him but they weren’t—

…

…

…Fuck.

“My young friend?”

“Fuck you. I just want to be left alone.”

“…If you really want that…” the former advisor said softly.

“Yes.”

He didn’t need any more… anything. Just Cloud and Zack.

Only them.

Only ever them.

He faded back into the shadows and left the bar. Kunsel skittered across the beams until he reached the hotel. He went through the window and immediately locked himself in the bathroom. He almost fell on the toilet and was violently ill. Even laying on the freezing floor did little to make him feel better. After an hour of just trying to shut down, Kunsel peeled off the costume and turned the shower onto the hottest setting. He sank down and buried his face into his knees as the water scaled his back just slightly faster than his cells could heal it. He felt wrong. Even after throwing up everything, he'd eaten, he still felt sick. He... 

...

He wanted Zack.

He wanted Zack to be here. To tell him everything was going to be okay. To hug him. To hug him and make him laugh and not hit him if he cried. To let him feel real. Whole.

But he wasn't here. He was in hell trying to keep Cloud safe.

And Kunsel was here. In another world. Alone. Alone and barely able to a fucking thing to change the situation. There was no progress. Fuck the 'even a failure is a step forward' bullshit. His family was in hell and there wasn't a damn thing he could do.

He bit into his knee as the tears fell. Blood coated his tongue.

It didn't hurt. 

He pulled back and forced himself to take deep breaths. Slow. Controlled. Each emotion identified. Evaluated for usefulness. Sorted. Then locked away. 

By the time he heard the alarm clock in the room above him go off at its usual time of a quarter past four, he was fully numb. Numb and controlled cold. He turned off the water and diligently dried himself off before sitting on the window bench of his room. He opened it and listened as the city woke up. The fisherman coming in and heading out. The bars closing and the bakeries opening. The doubles and singles practicing before the morning rush. The airships and troops moving high above the city. Guard rotations changing. The whole city was on a unspoken schedule. A routine. Each a cog in the wheel. A piece of a game.

...Kunsel knew the game.

And knew where he fell.

At half past six he took off his sleeping clothes and put on normal clothes. As he locked the door he heard Nyx’s open.

"Wha--Oh. Hey, pretty boy." Nyx smiled at him. His braids were different. Completely different, save for one that was on the left side of his head. "Trying to get back into a routine?"

"No. Just didn't want to get yelled at."

"...I'll talk to them about that.”

“Why?”

“…Because if something that bothers you, then they need to know. Jokes are only funny if everyone laughs,” Nyx said slowly, searching his face for… whatever worthless emotion these people felt.

“It’s fine.”

An awkward silence filled the hall.

“…Got a message from Pel last night. Tredd is here with the Bellum brothers, Thatcher, and Ackers. Tredd on R&R and the Guards are visiting with Secretary Claustra. I think they want to go to a breakfast joint near the Ministerial Quarter. You up for it?”

“Sounds nice,” he smoothly replied, shoving down the anger. It didn’t help. It wasn’t control. “Anything else you need to discuss before the others wake-up?”

“…Todays’ the last full day. Anything you want to do that you haven’t gotten to yet? It’s your R&R as much as the rest of us and you haven’t suggested much. I want to make sure that you’ve done what you’ve wanted to.”

He could laugh.

He could honestly laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“…I’d like to see the Library.”
It was a request that should be laughed off-

“Public or University? Or both?” Nyx quickly asked, pulling out his phone. “I think the University is technically open at…a—Yep! In ten minutes. We could gondola over and then meet the others for breakfast. Public isn’t for another few hours.”

…

…

“…Kunsel?”

“Yes. Just let me get my ID and cards.”

He walked back into his room before Nyx could say anything. He put his face into a pillow and silently screamed.

The Medic Vernon-Miller was waiting with Nyx in the lobby.

“I hope you mind an extra? I’ve been wanting to go to both libraries, but didn’t want to bore anyone. I wish I knew sooner; we could’ve snuck off at any time.”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t. He was going to kill someone. Or break something. Or—

No.

No.

He was fine. He was in control. Everything was fine.

Kunsel repeated the mantra as they walked to the library and when he excused himself to browse through the science and religion sections.

…

…

Of course, it was the same.

There were a few different books, but the basic theories and origins were the same. All the same.

He set back each book and hide in the rafters, just staring at the ceiling, until he heard Nyx and the Medic asking about him.

“Find anything interesting?” the Medic asked brightly.

“Two books were useful.”

The rest of the walk was fairly silent. They saw the expanded group as they walked toward the gondola exchang—

There was something watching them.

“Kunsel?”

“Sorry, I just—”

“Guys, don’t move.”

Kunsel followed Ostium’s gaze to—

A Tonberry.

Well, fuck.

Okay. Okay. It’s slow. It hits like a bitch, but it’s slow—

Kunsel moved—

Ohholyfuckwhatthefuckfuckfuck

It was fast. It was fast. It was fucking fast and it had fucking energy sword.

Nyx knocked him to the ground, and he watched the others take on the Tonberry and knock it back.

“Oh fuck, I forgot how these fuckers were,” Furia said with a laugh. “You okay, Kuns? Looked like you were piss yourself.”

“Don’t be a dick, Tred,” Altius said with a laugh. “But honestly, Kuns, haven’t you fought a Tonberry before?”

“You don’t fucking move like that. There’s something you need to learn,” the older Bellum added with a belly laugh as Nyx moved off him.

“They’re not fast.”

That caused everyone to look at him.

“They’re not fast. They’re not fast. They—they’re slow, but one hit will make you need a Pheonix Down. But they’re not fast. They’re not.”

It looked the same. It looked the same, but it wasn’t. It looked exactly the same, so why the fuck was it different if it looked the same?

He couldn’t stop his heart. It was too fast. Everything was fast. Wrong.

He had to have control. Why could—

“Fuck, you finally look green!”

“Fuck off Sonitus. We’ve all got a weakness,” Pelna said. The words should be sharp, but his eyes soft and it was mixed up and wrong and why did he act like this?

“Why did you fight it?” He needed to shut up. “You just got off medical leave. You could’ve been hurt.”

Why couldn’t he shut up?

“Aw, holy shit, Pelna! He cares!”

Of cou--

…He did. He cared. He cared. He cared. He caredhecaredhecaredhecaredhecared—

“Kuns—”

He ran. He ran he—He didn’t know what else to do, but the mask was breaking he was breaking.

He was… he didn’t know where. He didn’t care.

He sank down and tried to breathe. Tried to—

“Kunsel?”

Nyx was in front of him. No others. No one else was around.

“…They looked the same. In my world. They look the same but it’s different.”

He didn’t know why he was talking.

“That’s got to mess with you.”

No barb. No jab. No joke.

“It would fuck me up,” Nyx continued, slowly walking toward him like he was a deranged beast. Maybe he was. Sure had enough of his humanity stripped away to potentially qualify; or so the scientists thought. “Looking at something and thinking I knew what it was and then something fundamentally is different; that would be weird. There’s… there’s a thing called uncanny valley. It’s when something is so lifelike that it scares you, because you know it’s fake even though it looks real. It’s a thing where the similarities is what makes it scary, not the difference.”

“…It sounds like you read that from a book,” Kunsel choked out, feeling like he did at the first orphanage when he’d fuck up and just hide from the adults to prolong the beating. It always made it worse, but he was stupid enough to let fear make him hide. He thought he killed that part.

“I did.”

He and Nyx looked at each other and both of them laughed. Nyx knelt next to him.

“I can’t formally reprimand anyone, but R&K are yelling at everyone. They’ve got that seniority. No one should’ve acted like that.”

“…What?”

“I meant what I said. Jokes aren’t funny if you’re not laughing. And you’re not laughing.”

…

…

“Hey—Hey, it’s ok—”

Kunsel slammed his fist into Nyx’s chest. There was hand hovering over his shoulder, but he stopped the hug.

He didn’t want his hug.

He didn’t want to fucking care about them.

He didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry. I should—I shouldn’t hug without asking.”

Nyx pulled back and Kunsel wanted to scream.

“…Can I sit next to you?”

“…Sure.” Fuck, his voice was raw.

The older Glaive sat next to him, leaving room between them.

Kunsel closed it.

It was childish. It was childish and he was going to get hurt, but he was already hurting and had already fucked up so much.

“…When do we have to go back?”

“We don’t.”

Kunsel let his head fall onto the other’s shoulder. He was going to be hurt. If not the Glaives, then the Crownsguards or someone else. It always happened.

“…I know a small place, if you want to eat. Haven’t told the others.”

“Later?”

Nyx squeezed his hand. And didn’t let go.

“Later.”

Chapter Text

Kunsel should have been completely and utterly fucking thrilled when only two days after returning from Altissia they were immediately sent out on a mission. His work as a scout had earned him a long leash and he was allowed to go radio silent on his own to gather more intel on a ‘new’ regiment moving into the Vesperpool region. So, he was given full permission to go ahead and meet up with the Hunters that were scattered across the area.

“You know you don’t have to go radio silent.”

He looked up from packing as Nyx entered their tent. He didn’t tense as normal. He wasn’t calm, but the usual alertness wasn’t there. And it was making him insane.

“I was given fairly strict orders that—”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Nyx looked almost angry. “I don’t—Kunsel, you are amazing. Hands down amazing. But going off on your own—”

“I’m not a child, Nyx.” Kunsel couldn’t keep the annoyed tone out of his voice if he tried. “I’m good at scouting and you’ve seen the reports about Tummelt—”

“Then take someone with you! Fred is here, so ask her to shadow you! Or get Xander. Or, fuck, take me. Just—You’ve seen some of the changes on the MTs. If you get caught by yourself then you could get hurt. Do you understand me? We’re already taking big risks by doing guerrilla tactics. You alone is a whole other level of potential disaster.”

Memories and emotions of Altissia boiled in his stomach. He wanted to move on. To forget his weakness. But Nyx so clearly… clearly caring was…

He forgot how much it hurt.

Lies . Liar. He never forgot. Could never forget. That would mean forgetting them and even in death he’d keep them burned onto his soul.

“…I’m going to be with other Hunters most of the time.” Kunsel tried to smile at Nyx. He knew it was weak. Another failure. “And this is an order from the Captain.”

And… I’m SOLDIER. I’m better at this than the rest of you. This is what I’m good for. Let me do this. This…

…

…

… This is how I care .

“Fuck him.”

“Ny—”

“I’m allowed to be pissed at my supervisor. Especially when he’s being a dick.” His roommate—still a guard, but he wasn’t just that and Kunsel knew denying it was just stupid at this point—closed the distance and set a hand on his shoulder. “…Promise me you’ll text me every forty-eight hours. Do that, or I’ll hunt your ass down.”

Kunsel raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look. I know you’re good at what you do. I just happen to be more of a stubborn bastard than you.”

I doubt that.

He agreed to texting, if he could.

The pain didn’t go away, but it was dulled.

He’d take it.

***

The Vesperpool was quickly becoming one of Kunsel’s favorite places in Eos. With it being so close to Tenebrae and near the Hunter’s HQ, it was a breeding ground for information.

“You look happy,” Auburnbrie commented, walking into the small room he borrowed from time to time.

“Just going over reports,” Kunsel neutrally replied. His phone dinged. He didn’t need to look at it to know it was from Nyx or Pelna.

“You don’t need to call me every couple of hours.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Zack—”

“Nope!”

“Za—”

“I need to know you’re okay.”

…

“That you’re coming back.”

“I’m never leaving you. I’ll be dead before that happens.”

Couldn’t even get that right…

I’m sorry.

“Well, try and get some sunlight today.”

“Of course,” Kunsel calmly replied. The leader of the Hunters just sighed and left.

Kunsel resumed his work. There were several reports to get through before he headed out later and he did want time to search through the Hunters’ rooms before that—

…He glared at the dinging phone. Of course it would just keep—

Eight till four.

The papers that were stacked to his left were on the right side of the desk. Dozens of encoded notes on the table. A half-eaten sandwich on the bookshelf.

…Two hours gone.

Kunsel read the notes he didn’t remember writing. It took him three times to fully understand them. He messaged his temples, and tried to just focus on breathing and not freaking out. There wasn’t a good reason to; especially, since he couldn’t fix—

“Headache, Kunsel?”

“Yeah—”

…It wasn’t lie. His head hurt.

Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—

“Here, man.” A Hunter handed him two pills. He took them even though they wouldn’t help. He was enhanced. Normal meds were worthless. “Also, got a new bit of info in. Care to hear?”

“I don’t have anything new to exchange.” There was always a price. Always.

…

…

…

…There had to be a price.

“Consider this payback for you helping us shore up our intel network,” the Hunter replied and hopped up on the desk, fully ignoring Kunsel’s glare. “Anyways… I just got word that a certain Commodore was seen landing in the area.”

“Oh?” Kunsel even impressed himself somedays with his lies. Of course, he knew that Highwind was in the area. But, it was nice to know the Hunter’s information was only about two days behind. It was a vast improvement from the weeks long delay.

Well… at least the channels Kunsel wanted to improve were doing better.

Others, well… He was fine with the delay.

 “How interesting.”

“Thought you’d enjoy, you fucking voyeur.” There was no heat in… Gray. Gray’s voice. He was smiling. “You coming down for some food?”

“No, thank you. I need to pack—”

“Pack later.” Gray stood up and held out a hand. “You’re gonna be gone for a few days, so come join us.”

“…Sure.”

…

…

I’m going to dinner with Hunters.

I’ll call later.

Thanks pretty boy

***

Kunsel crouched in the reeds of the Vesperpool.

The encampment was nestled into the edge of the forest. The airships acted as a protective wall, surrounding the tents and vehicles. Highwind’s most trusted lackies were toward the center with a few other men milling around. There were some cleaning out weapons and the ever present hum from a ship indicated it was full of MTs. The Commodore herself was outside her tent, which was off to the side. A bit of privacy.

Easy to go to and from without being noticed.

He didn’t approach.

Because something was wrong.

The body language was off. And it wasn’t just the green men. Highwind looked far more pissed than usual. Venom coated her eyes in a meanness that he’d only seen on caged animals.

And caged people.

Who collared her? Is my deal compromised?

Kunsel waded further into the thicket—

And immediately dove under as he spotted the faintest hint of glimmer of light in a tree. He dove down deep and moved over to a more shadowed covered area of the lake that had rock coverage. He rose up just high enough to breathe through his nose.

There was a sniper in the trees. Snipers.

None of them were a part of Highwind’s group. Her group was well equipped, but nothing like this.

If he wasn’t a SOLDIER, then he wouldn’t have been able to notice them. Fuck, it took him longer to notice than it should have.

…I should have seen them on the first scan. What the fuck? What… What’s wrong with me?

…

…

He needed to get into the trees.

***

It was small unit.

A small, elite unit. Or, as elite as an unenhanced person could be.

…

…

…

The Turks are unenhanced.

Kunsel shoved down the unwanted thoughts as he hovered above the group, hidden well in the interwoven branches. The members were extraordinarily silent as they moved between the small platforms in the trees. They communicated through standard sign language. It was a smart idea, Kunsel had to acknowledge. The Glaives often did that as well; using standard in public and their own Galahdian sign in private or when it was just them on missions. Honestly, the sign was far easier to pick up than the languages. He had most of it memorized before Altius and Pelna offered to teach it to him.

Kunsel had grown so used to being his own teacher he forgot just how many things could be learned when someone was specifically educating another person. While he did learn many things in Shinra, he was bored more often than not as most of the instructors were teaching shit he already knew—or were teaching it so fucking poorly that he just grabbed some books and found some participants to practice on. With someone being knowledgeable in a subject, there were a million other things they slip. Because they were comfortable. Open.

There was only person he knew who could teach about a subject he was an expert in and not let anything but the intended lesson slip.

And he’d been dead for years.

So, in learning Galahdian sign, Kunsel also learned how small portions of it bled into their standard. It was incredibly subtle, but still there. Like a lingering accent.

And the accent of the group below him could only belong to those of the Swells.

Specifically, he was dealing with Dark Skies; a well-trained mercenary group that had previous contracts with Highwind and the Empire.

…And the Lucians.

 It wasn’t unheard of, working with mercenaries. It was never something formalized as the King couldn’t afford to seem that desperate for a win—and most of the mercenaries and guerillas hated the King for having the Wall around Insomnia—and it was always short-term. Kunsel knew that the Glaives did a mission with the Skies around two years ago, and then it had been radio silence as the group preferred methods that left large amounts of ‘collateral damage.’

Why are you here?

Highwind hadn’t hired them.

Kunsel would’ve seen the transaction in her account.

And it was clear from the behavior below that the Skies were in charge.

That wasn’t in his plans.

***

“Having a rough night?”

He didn’t flinch as the knife dug into his skin.

“…This is your damn fault,” Highwind bit out. The knife stayed in his neck.

“You know you’ll attract less attention if you put this down.” Only partially a lie. The shadows in the tent hid both of them, but still, he was going to take the cautious road this time. She dug it in hard before ripping it out. Kunsel boredly rubbed some sealing cream on his neck before covering it up with a bandage. Annoying, but he couldn’t comprise his healing abilities. “Thank you.”

“Fuck you.” Highwind tossed down the knife.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before she stood up and poured… two glasses. With practiced movements, she turned so it looked like only one glass was filled and being carried. In the safety of the shadows she sat down and handed him one.

“Thank you.”

“…You really are a creepy fuck,” she said with no heat in her voice. She sipped on the whiskey. “They knew you’d be in the area.”

…What?

“They knew you’d be here. They have eyes on the lake and in the woods.”

“…Are you compromised?”
“Not in our deal.” Kunsel raised an eyebrow and she just shrugged at him. “I would know if I was remotely being suspected of collaborating with the Lucians, but I’m not. This… this is something else.”

“…Why be so open?”

“I want you to get rid of these fuckers.”

She gave him a piece of paper. With a number.

“Tummelt’s personal number. He’s the one who hired these fucks.” Kunsel just continued to stare.

Because it wasn’t balanced. Kunsel could get rid of the Skies without knowing who hired them. That would be easy. He didn’t need to know that it was Tummelt who put them on Highwind.

Knowing that it was them made them even.

But her giving him the number?

…Kunsel owed her.

He owed her a favor and that made him want to kill her.

It could be quick. Strangling. A knife. Poison. Bashing her skull in until the bones were dust mixed with bruised skin and congealed blood.

“…How soon do you want them gone?” He chose to ask. Calm. Neutral. Controlled. He was fine. He was fine.

“I’d kiss you if you got rid of them by dawn.”

***

Seven hours, fifty-two, and thirty-eight seconds later, Kunsel threw down the tied up body of the leader of the Skies.

The corpses were stacked far deeper into the woods.

He’d deal with them later.

He walked forward and handed her a large stack of papers.

“Full report of their activities. You were correct that Tummelt doesn’t suspect our deal. He does, however, believe that you too close to your former gang.”

And there was no other word to describe that particular group. It was a marauding group that had broken off and caused hell throughout the world, with Highwind ascending far above the others.

…At least in outward appearances.

“The leader is yours to do what you wish. The others will be disposed of.”

He did not think about how they didn’t get absorbed into the Lifestream.

He couldn’t think about that.

Highwind walked up to him and—

…And kissed his cheek.

“I owe you. Let’s keep that formal and clear.”

She turned back into her tent with Callux following. Kincaid just stared at him.

Kunsel forced himself to bow politely before leaving.

Because he was going to be sick.

She couldn’t owe him a favor. Not like this. She gave him Tummelt’s number.

That information should have been paid in triple the amount of lives he’d taken.

Why would she say she owed him.

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

He felt sick.

He felt sic—

…

…

…

. . .

He felt sick.

Kunsel watched as the beasts devoured the corpses of the mercenary group and tried to shut down his body the way the fucker and the Turks taught him.

Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over.

It didn’t work.

He felt sick.

Chapter Text

Nyx had to stop himself from bear hugging the life out of Kunsel when he got back.

Yes, he knew he was acting like an overprotective coeurl trying to shield her only surviving kit.
No, he didn’t think he was in the wrong for that.

He felt the stares from Crowe, Pel, Lib, and so many more once they were safely landed back in the Capital. He knew they were concerned, because he did have a habit of getting attached. Of making connections way too fast and sometimes getting burned.

But what else was he supposed to do?

Stop letting in people like Luche did?

Fuck that. Fuck barricading his heart and emotions. Getting hurt was a part of life and Nyx wanted to live.

So, yes, he was very attached to his prickly yet kind yet aloof yet attentive yet annoyed yet caring yet hurt friend.

Yes, Kunsel was his friend. Didn’t matter that he knew Kunsel wouldn’t call him a friend. Nyx knew his emotions.

And he was hurt.

Altissia made it extremely clear that none of them knew just how hurt Kunsel was. R&K were the first to register it all those months ago; back when Kunsel was a prisoner. Then Nyx saw a part with the stars and thought he understood.

He didn’t.

Not even a little bit.

…

…

…

He didn’t know anything.

He couldn’t.

Nyx wasn’t the one who had been thrown into another world. He could logic out different parts. Had done that over several beers with his friends and family. Every conversation felt circular. It was circular.

He didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t help Kunsel return to his world. He couldn’t even really help him on missions, because Kunsel was fucking perfect scout. The intel he brought back was always sound. He may only bring them one piece of information during some of his missions, but even that record put him at the top.

Not that any of it was making a difference to the Big Three. They still wanted him on a short leash.

…Of course, Nyx wasn’t sure if he glad or not that he was still supposed to room with him. He wanted Kunsel to have privacy to just… be? Think? Feel?

But the idea of just leaving him to be by himself for hours and hours was also not appealing as it was a few months ago.

“…Nyx?”

“Yeah?”

“…Does Kuns look… Do you think he’s okay?”
He bit back the urge to say ‘no,’ as he looked over to—

“…What the fuck?” he breathed out, getting to his feet.

Because Kunsel looked like a defrosting corpse.

Alarm bells sounded in his mind as he quickly strode over—hoy fuck did he want to run, but he couldn’t because that would draw attention and he hated that—while texting K.

“Good morning, Nyx,” came the ever-polite voice. He was always polite. To a fault.

Don't 'good morning me,'" Nyx slightly snapped. "Are you okay? You look... You do not look good."

"I am fine, Ny—​"

Nyx cut him off by press the back of his hand to Kunsel's forehead—

Well, shit.

"You are not 'fine,'" he growled out. "You are sick. You have a fever."

"Skin temperature--Wha—Hey!"

Nxy kept the back of Kunsel's shirt firmly between his fingers as he dragged the young—

One of the...

...

...​Is he our...

...

...

The youngest back to their room. He skipped Kunsel's room and deposited him on the couch.

"Don't move; I'm getting the thermometer." And texting K again, but the kid didn't need to know that.

"Nyx, I can't be sick."

He snorted. The worry-anger was very much still active in his head, but Kunsel literally saying a childish phrase while sounding all polite and way too serious was a bit too much.

"Sure. I bet they teach you all how to avoid getting sick like they teach you how to avoid concussions, right? Rigorous handwashing and showers."

He walked over and expected to see Kunsel wearing his 'I'm not pouting, but I'm totally pouting on the inside' expression.

It wasn't there.

Kunsel was just staring at the wall.

"...Pretty boy?"

"Yes?" It was gone. The blank look was replaced in an instant, but like the night on the roof and the morning in the back alley, Nyx knew what he was seeing. And he didn't like it. "Yes, Nyx?"

"Open your mouth."

"I'm--"

"Do not argue with me, Kunsel. Not today."

Surprise flashed in his eyes and he automatically took the thermometer. Nyx tried to bury the guilt. He hated pulling any kind of rank. Fucking hated it. He knew that most others respected him—or at least trusted him to not royally fuck up—and appreciated that, but he was not under any circumstance looking for a leadership position. He didn't want the responsibility or the stress or the slow death via paperwork. None of it.

Kunsel took out the thermometer after it beeped, and Nyx immediately knelt down to see it.

Because while he trusted Kunsel with his life—and the lives of his friends and brothers—​he did not trust the kid with his own safety.

Not after the airship bullshit.

"...Congrats. You've earned medical leave."

Because a fever of ​thirty-eight wasn't good. Not enough to warrant a trip to Medical, but definitely at least three or four days of sick leave. And gods know Kunsel had the time built up.

Nyx quickly sent off a few texts before looking back at his pretty boy who was just staring at thermometer reading in pure, child-like confusion.

Poor kid. Fever must be rattling his brain.

"Alright, pretty boy," Nyx said softly, "where do you want to sleep? Out here on the couch or in your room?"

Kunsel didn’t say anything. Just stared at the coffee table.

“…Kunsel. I need a response,” Nyx slowly said, hearing the door open. He knew it was K. “You don’t have to talk, but can you point?”

The kid didn’t do either but got up and walked into his room. Didn’t even shut the door. Just laid down on the bed.

Nyx glanced at their resident doc—and, yeah, he knew Kowalski was a CNA, but out in the field, it was close enough—and was met with a worried look. He really, really, really wanted to follow the medic into the room, but knew that K would put him on The List if he so much as inched toward the door.

So, he walked into the kitchen to see Rico putting food into their fridge.

“…How high was the fever?”

“Thirty-eight point four.”

“Hm. Could be worse,” Rico said, finishing depositing the last of the frozen soup containers. “…Any reason he’s not talking?”
“He seems to be genuinely confused about being sick. Like, he didn’t think he would get sick. Could get sick.”

“…Maybe he doesn’t get sick that often?”

“What do you mean?”
“When was the last time you were sick? Like, really sick?”

Nyx opened and closed his mouth a few times while he wracked his brain.

“…Exactly. Some people just don’t get sick a lot after they stop being really little. Hell, some kids don’t get super sick. Just a mix of hygiene and genetics.”

“…So, I’m being a paranoid bastard,” Nyx said at Rico knowing smirk.

“A small one.” He glanced over to the bedroom. “…And you know Gentoo will thoroughly examine him and figure out everything.”

Nyx hummed and made himself busy by unloading the dishwasher. It had been Kunsel’s chore, but Nyx didn’t mind putting them away.

He just fucking hated loading the damn thing.

After thirty minutes, K reappeared and looked far better than he did going in.

“What’s the verdict?”

“Well, there’s definitely an infection, and I’ve got test samples, so I’ll test them and see what comes back,” Kowalski replied with a smile that… that felt out of place. He must have noticed the ‘what the fuck’ look on his face, because he sobered up slightly. “Getting sick isn’t a bad thing. It’s normal; and honestly, I was expecting him to be sick sooner than this. The fever is high, but not dangerous. He’s a bit dazed, which you can contribute to the fever, but when we were talking, I believe he’s honestly confused about being sick. Like a kid who follows the rules, but then ends up making a small mistake. Just keep an eye on him and take a reading every six hours or so. The fever will probably creep up a bit since we’re at the beginning stages, but medication will keep it in check. Just do the usual of rest, lots of fluids, and simple meals.”

Nyx hummed in agreement and walked the older pair out. K promised to call as soon as he had the results back, while Rico promised to let the others know what was going on.

“Probably won’t have to tell many. Plenty saw me drag pretty boy up her by his shirt collar.”

“Aw. Such a good Mama Coe—”

Nyx gently slammed the door in their faces and locked it as their laughter echoed.

***

“What’s he got?”

“…Everything came back negative.”

Nyx sat up straighter and glanced into Kunsel’s bedroom. The kid was curled up on the bed, hopefully sleeping. He’d given him some aspirin earlier, so hopefully it was kicking in.

At least he sounded more with it after K left.

“I called the Hunters and no one there is sick. Or, as sick as Kunsel.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means, that some of them have headaches and allergies that could be colds. The infection could’ve passed to Kunsel. Since he’s not from our world, then he could just be having a worse reaction to our milder illnesses. While he’s been here for a year, his immune system is still relatively new to our world.”

“…Is this why you said you thought he’d sick sooner?” Nyx asked, full on staring at Kunsel.

“Yes. In theory, he should have gotten sick. There are reports of people catching new illnesses when just traveling across our own world. It’s also why we typically drink from filtered water on missions, even when we do have access to clean tap water. Our bodies need significant time to adjust to the bacteria. So, with someone from a different world, he should have gotten sick fairly soon after arriving. But, he didn’t get sick. Not even once… till now, anyways.”

Nyx was quiet, letting the information try to connect to his memories.

“…It’s a small reason why they thought he was spy. At least in the beginning. The water given to him was just straight tap water.” There was some shuffling over the line. “…I know there was a large discussion over that, but… Well, what happened, happened. And, he didn’t get sick. There’s a lot of things one can hide. Stomach problems aren’t one of them.”

“Yeah,” Nyx said in a very neutral tone, his own stomach churning at the thought of Kunsel purposefully getting hurt. He knew they weren’t meaning to be cruel. He clearly remembered the raw confusion around the kid’s arrival. The fear.

…

…None of that calmed the rage forming.

“So, he might be sick from something mild?”

“It’s a possibility,” K replied.

“…And the other possibilities are…?”

“…It’s been a year since he arrived here, Nyx.”

…What?

He pulled up his calendar an—

“…Yesterday. The year mark was yesterday.”

He hadn’t said anything. Nothing.

“…You think he’s depressed again?” Nyx asked far more softly. And in Galahdian.

They hadn’t really talked about it. That Kunsel was most likely depressed when he first got here. Nyx wanted to talk to R&K about it more after witnessing Kunsel’s breakdown in Altissia, but they’d been shipped out so fast that it didn’t happen. Yeah, a quick few sentences exchanged, but nothing deep. Nothing of substance.

“I think the one-year mark of anything extremely emotional could cause enough anxiety and stress to crash an immune system. And being thrown from one world to another is the most emotionally extreme event I can think of.”

“…I can’t. I don’t know these stars.”

“…My home’s always been run down. It’s on the sea.”

“…They looked the same. In my world. They look the same but it’s different.”

“…What do I do?”

“Rest. Fever reducers. Give him the choice of talking or having space. And if the fever gets too high or he shuts in on himself, then let me know. There’s a lot of people he can talk to.”

“Right. Thanks, K.”

“Not a problem, Osprey.”

***

Kunsel ended up sleeping the next day away. Nyx managed to get him to eat some food and drink some water with a liquid IV mixed in when he was awake, but otherwise he just slept. Well, he was also better about not fighting him on taking his temp. The fever didn’t get much higher, but Nyx swore that Kunsel felt hotter each time he touched his forehead.

“Do you just run hot, and I didn’t notice?” Nyx muttered, putting a cold back on Kunsel’s forehead and neck.

There wasn’t a reply.

The pattern continued into Day 3 and Nyx called in reinforcements.

Because something was wrong.

Kunsel still had a fever and was in a complete daze. When did speak it was in the language that Nyx didn’t know. Was it his home language? The native language of his world? Something else? It had to be important for him to default to it.

All he knew was that the situation had turned ugly and Kunsel needed to be in Medical.

Nyx watched as Tilly inserted an IV and hooked up their pretty boy to a ventilator. Dozens of more swabs and blood samples were taken. They needed to figure out what was wrong.

Kunsel’s temperature was over 40 degrees. He brushed back his kid’s hair as Tilly ordered an ice bath.

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay, you hear me? I know this must be scary but we’re doing this to help. I promise you’re safe.”

He jerked back when Kunsel weakly laughed.

…It may have been the most disturbing thing he’d seen.

And he’d seen mutilated bodies.

But Kunsel giggled with dead eyes and muttered something he couldn’t remotely understand and he thought someone had dumped cold water on him.

Then it was gone and Kunsel just looked dazed. Nyx glanced around to see everyone else prepping the ice bath and talking doctor jargon that made his head spin.

“You okay?” Lib asked, taking a seat next to him. “I know Kuns is in a daze, but we need you here, okay?”
“Got it.”

Did no one else hear that? See that?

…

…

…

Did he just do that?

Nyx shook his head and focused on soothing Kunsel as the others put him in the ice bath. Well, lukewarm bath as they had to gradually lower the temp, but still.

…

…

…Okay, maybe the last few days of limited sleep and worry was affecting him.

Nyx carded his fingers through Kunsel’s hair as bags of ice were slowly added to the water. Kunsel just stared at the ceiling with his dazed eyes. His whole body was tense. Nyx, Lib, and Pel tried to have a soft, but normal conversation about Bob Ross to help trigger something calming in his brain, but the tension remained until he was finally out of the water. Nyx adjusted the blankets as he watched Kunsel watching him. There was really no other explanation for how Kunsel’s eyes followed his hands and kept flashing up to his face. Nyx narrated what he was doing under his breath, but that didn’t seem to fully register.

“We got a hit.”

He looked up to see a doctor he didn’t recognize walking in with a full-on smile. He felt Lib squeeze his shoulders and caught Rico’s warning look.

“What did you find?”

“Legionella…”

A bacteria. A common one that mainly caused flu like symptoms. Or worse depending on how much contaminated a person. Crowe was sick once after swallowing some pond water, but not like this…

…

…

Kunsel’s immune system was different.

Completely different.

…

…

…So why hadn’t he gotten sick earlier—

…

…

. . .

His appetite.

During the first few months, Kunsel’s appetite resembled that of a bird. R&K and him had thought it was a depression. It made sense. But what if it was more?

Were you sick?

Why didn’t you…

…

You didn’t feel comfortable.

No one would have. Not when you didn’t know us. When there was so much obvious tension.

Stuck in a world he didn’t know and surrounded by people he didn’t know…

…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, pretty boy.

“Ny—”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You haven’t slept in days,” Tilly smoothly countered, not even bothered by his growl. “I can bring another bed in here, but you are sleeping. Do you understand me, Ulric?”

Ah, not Tilly.

“Got it, Doc.”

Not once had he looked at her—and he knew he’d get an earful later from either R or K or both—but he felt like if he took his eyes off his pretty boy he’d miss something. Something more. Something important.

It was all important.

Those tiny, fleeting moments were important.

The annoying looks and half hidden pouts.

The exhaustion and fear.

The quiet smile.

Nyx wanted to know more.

To be told more.

The more he knew the more he could help his kid.

Protect his kid.

“…What’s going on?”

He glanced over to Pelna. The room was cleared out.

“No—”

“Don’t bullshit me, Nyx.” Pel never talked like this. Even in the most serious moments, he could crack a joke.

There was no joke in his eyes.

“I know you’re worried about Kunsel. We all are. But we just got confirmation that it’s an easily cured bacteria. He’ll be fine. More than fine.” His voice was low—trying to not wake up the now asleep Kunsel—and that just added to everything. “So, why are you angry?”
“…I’m not angry.”

“Ny—”

“I’m confused.”

Silence lingered around them. Pel leaned back slightly and watched him. The role reversal almost made Nyx laugh. Hell, he might laugh later, but not now. Not when he needed to get his words together about his ki—

…

His kid.

His kid.

…

…

Well, that kind of simplified everything.

“…Nyx?”

“…There’s a couple of things K and R talked to me about Kunsel. Things that… that don’t add up. Or, when I do try to add them up, I get confused and pissed, because the answer is that I’m missing things. I’m not paying attention. Or I’m paying attention to the wrong stuff and then stuff like this happens.”

“…You can’t protect him from everything,” Pel said after a few minutes. He gently rubbed a hand over Kunsel’s knee. Kid didn’t move. “And it’s not your job too.”

…It wasn’t. Being a guard… he was supposed to keep everyone else safe from Kunsel. A laughable statement. Protecting others from Kunsel? Yeah right. Kid was amazing at being scout and gathering intel, but he was good. He wouldn’t hurt or betray them. Wasn’t in his nature. He was protective, not cruel.

“It will be.”

It is right now, but he couldn’t just say that without even having everything ready.

…He needed to go ho—

“Nyx, I get you have a hero com—”

“I’m giving him a bead.”

“…Do you have one picked out?” Nyx swears he pulls something in his neck. “Uh, if you don’t, then I’ve got a couple. And I think Lib and Crowe—”

“You’re not gonna… I don’t know—freak out or something?”

Pelna shifted and glanced at the door before looking back at him.

“I mean… I think you’re setting yourself up for more hurt and heartache. Kunsel’s been adamant about going back home. You know this. You know he’s not staying—”

We can’t figure out how to send him back home. There’s been no progress.

“—and yet you’re wanting to give a bead. We don’t say shit like that lightly.”

And that was a truthful statement. No Galahdian joked about beads. Ever.

He knew that others would probably give him some hell over this, so having Pel by his side was…

Nyx got up and started braiding five strands of hair together on the left side of Pelna’s head. It started around his ear and curved back toward his nape. He fastened it with a small clip that contained the bead that all Galahdian Glaives wore.

Pelna didn’t say anything. Or reach up and touch the braid.

He just stared at Nyx.

“…Thanks, on the bead offer, but I’m good on that.” Nyx looked at Kunsel and smiled softly. “I’m going to go home for a bit, once he’s got his feet under him again.”

“…Oh.”

Now, he reached up to touch the braid, while looking between Nyx and Kunsel. A million emotions flared up through his eyes.

Maybe it wasn’t fair of Nyx to spring this on him at the same time as announcing that he wanted to bring Kunsel into his family. Yes, Libertus was his oldest friend and closest confident, but Pelna and Kunsel clicked. They got along in a way that sometimes made Nyx mildly jealous, but that only solidified his choice. Because this wasn’t about him. It was about Kunsel and those who he felt comfortable with. And gods bless Libertus, but Kunsel still wasn’t calling him by his first name.

"...I'll watch him."

Of course, Pelna would immediately step up. He was good like that. 

"Thank you. It shouldn't take more than three or four days." 

Traveling to Galahd and then going to the caverns to find the crystals and then getting the blessings--a truly symbolic thing, because no damn Elder was stopping him from getting his kid--and visiting his family graves wouldn't take too long.

"Take you time. Your kid is safe."

'Your kid.'

Everything jagged and thorny inside of Nyx fully settled. For the first time in a year the anxiety and stress in him melted away. Of course, it was going to be replaced with new anxiety that would develop from if Kunsel would even accept the bead. Then, if Kuns chose to be a part of Ulric family, then he’d have a whole new slew of worries about not doing his job as his guardian and family, but those were tomorrow’s worries. For now, he felt fully content.

Chapter Text

Kunsel was not in the assigned room. Or the apartment.

…

…

Medical suite. A medical suite. Probably on the fourth floor of the wing, since there were nurses talking about infectious diseases—

…Diseases?

Kunsel opened his eyes—

Something…

…

…

Something was wrong. This—

Poison.

He took a breath. No need to raise the heart monitor and disturb Ny—

Why is he here? Why—

“Ah, Commander Hewley, Second Class Fair and Zelda are over here.”

“How’s Zack?”

“Doing well, here’s the full report.”

…

“Um, sir—”

“If I’m in the way, please let me know.”

“Of course.”

…

“…You did okay, Zelda. I’ll talk to General Affairs about getting you extra training.”

“Yessir.”

No. No, that’s not the priority.

Priority order:

1. What was he poisoned with?
2. How did they develop a way to hurt him?
3. How did he not know—

Youneverknowitsalwaystoolateyou’realwaystoolatetheygethurthurtingstillhurtingtortureyourfaultyoudidntknowyourfaultyourfaultyoufaultyourfaultyoushouldbehurttortureddeadgonewhydidntyoudie—

4. When was he poisoned?
5. How long has he been in the infectious disease ward?

Because it had to be poison.

A disease… He couldn’t get sick. While he wasn’t a First, the levels of Mako in his body altered basically made him immune to all diseases. He can’t remember the last time he was properly sick.

So, a poison.

He tried to think through everything. Arsenic, atropine, strychnine, cyanide, and thallium were the strongest and most deadly of poisons, but the symptoms weren’t perfect matches. Strychnine was the right one by any means. While there was chest pain and an ache along his spine, those weren’t the main symptoms. And his mood was fine. Arsenic had a few more matches, but he was missing all signs of abdominal pain. Cyanide wasn’t correct. Yes, he felt weaker, but not confused. Not anxious. Atropine was close with the best pain, but he’d need to check his charts to see if there was an effect to his urinary system. Thallium wasn’t correct either.

…A normal dose wouldn’t cause anything to happen to him. The Mako prevented that.

And he worked hard on building up resistance to higher doses.

Zack didn’t need a weak second.

He ran through the list of all of the poisons in this world. And while there were a few partial matches, no one in this world knew he was enhanced. They didn’t know how the Mako affected his body.

“Zelda, I ran a blood test and… well… I’m confused.”

“About what, Dr. Matilda?”

“About your red and white cells.”

“…What about them?”

“They’re different from ours.”

“…Yes? I mean, I’m seeing what you’re showing me, and, I promise you, this is normal.”

“…This is normal?”

“Yes. I am from a different world. It makes sense there are some biological differences between us.”

“…This is truly normal?”

“Yes.”

The doctor’s reaction to him was mildly hilarious, but he couldn’t have them knowing about the enhancements. And there wasn’t any other person to contradict him, so it all worked out in his favor.

…But something might have slipped.

Not from him, but from Shinra.

…After accepting that he was trapped in another world, Kunsel’s priorities had been to get back to Zack and Cloud. That was always the priority. Would always be the priority. He’d spent months, a ye—

^F A_ILUR^E    W_EA_K    ^YOU_R F^AULT

--trying to figure out how to get back.

Kunsel hadn’t tried to figure out why this world.

It was stupid. It was stupid to not juggle multiple missions, but he needed to put everything into finding a way back. Cloud and Zack were in hell. They were being tortured and if Reno’s warning even partly true, then the scientists were getting bored. Bored scientists…

…

…Kunsel could think of few things more dangerous, than a bored Shinra scientist.

Especially one that worked in secret labs torture chambers.

So, he was behind. Like always, he was behind. He had to catch up. Get ahead.

Was this world important?

Was it planned?

This world… It was different than Gaia.

There wasn’t a Lifestream.

Magic was sequestered into two familial lines, through the—

…The Crystal.

It was something Kunsel avoided. The Crystal and its Light hurt him. He was wholly incompatible with the magic in this world, but the Crystal was an energy source. It was one of the largest energy sources that he had seen. While not as infinite as the Lifestream, it certainly was powerful. And he’d spent enough time in Tuesti’s files to know just how desperate Shinra was to find another power source. While the Reactors were strong, they were costly.

…

…Could they be here for the Crystal? But, to do that, they’d need to get to the Royal family. Which, truly, would be simple. Painfully, pathetically simple.

Shinra had rebuilt the entirety of Nibelheim and no one was the wiser. Every person meticulously picked out so that even trusted friends and family couldn’t tell the difference.

He didn’t question it.

If they were going to try and harm the Lucians, then using Niflheim was the most logical path. Use them to weaken the country, so the few remaining real SOLDIERs and Turks could remove the King, the Prince, and Lady Lunafreya. With them and the Crystal, Shinra could do what they liked and ensure the lineage continued as long as they needed it to.

…

…

…I need to get out of this fucking room.

If someone tried to poison him, then it would be the mole.

And they would only try to kill him, if he was closing in.

…And that meant the mole was close.

And he was being careless. Stupid. Worthless. Again. Again.

Kunsel needed out of this room. He needed to find more information. To reevaluate everything gathered.

Because if Shinra was working with Niflheim, then they’ll be bolder in the next few weeks. Insufficient poison wasn’t one of their method. If they wanted to intimidate someone, there were far superior methods to drive home the point.

This dose was meant to kill him.

And Shinra did not tolerate failures.

Kunsel breathed deeply.

Focused.

Priorities.

One: Is Shrina using the Niflheim Empire?

Unknown.

Solution

• Review all gathered intel.
• Gather more intel from the Captain of the Kingsglaives, the Marshall of the Crownsguard, and the bodyguard of the Lucian King.
• Find the mole or the moles.
• Interrogate needed.

Two: What was he poisoned with?

     Unknown.

     Solution:

• Test all poison samples available in this world on himself.
• Create a new table of symptoms to dose.
• Find the poison or combination of poisons and the correct dose or doses that would duplicate what happened to him.

Three: How did they poison him?

Unknown.

Solution

• Review security footage.
• Interrogate parties as needed.

Four: When did they poison him?

Unknown.

Solution

• Review security footage.
• Interrogate parties as needed.

Five: How long has he been in the infectious disease ward?

Unknown.

Solution:

• Review medical charts.

A plan.

He had a plan.

Kunsel took another breath and rolled his head over to Nyx.

…He wasn’t the mole.

Kunsel may be a failure, but he wasn’t stupid. Nyx was far too close to him, and he’d spent too long observing him.

But why are you here?

If the doctors believed him to be sick enough for the infectious disease ward, then why was Nyx allowed to be here? Wasn’t he concerned about getting sick? Why would Drautos, Leonis, or Amicitia let him be here? Nyx wasn’t going to sick, but still, why waste resources?

“…Promise me you’ll text me every forty-eight hours. Do that, or I’ll hunt your ass down.”

The hug when he got back.

The arm almost always around his shoulder.

The smile matched with worried eyes.

…It was kind of funny. For all of sharing a room fo—for so many months, Kunsel hadn’t really watched Nyx sleep.

A person’s face was different when they slept.

Zack’s was soft when they first met. Soft and smiling. Kunsel was certain it would change in month.

…It took three years for hard lines to form.

They were permanent after another year.

Kunsel cried like baby when he realized the softness was gone forever. He didn’t know as a cadet that he was supposed to protect Zack better. He hated himself for it.

Cloud’s face was always troubled. Years of bullying did that. But, Kunsel was ready this time. The frown softened over the years.

What would their faces look like now?

Nyx looked like he’d been punched. Dark circles under his eyes and pronounced bags. Skin clearly indicating that he was dehydrated. His eyes flickered too fast under the lids.

Worry. Worry and stress.

…

…

…It took a lot to lie in your sleep. It could be done, but it was difficult.

Kunsel couldn’t hear any bugs. And he knew the rooms didn’t have open cameras.

He slowly got up and walked over to older man and rearranged the fallen blanket. He didn’t stir. It was a weakness. To sleep so soundly. Securely.

….Stop worrying. I’m your prisoner. Your roommate. Your subordinate. You shouldn’t worry. That’s not your job.

Footsteps in the hall.

In one movement he returned to his bed and shut his eyes. The steps slowed and the door opened.

Not a nurse, not with those unconfident steps.

Definitely not an assas—

“Nyx?”

“Wha—Huh? Oh. Hey, Susie. Graveyard shift?”

Susan Hobbs. The daughter of Calvin Hobbs, a child psychiatrist.

“Yeah, Dad got caught up with notes, so I came to find him. Tilly wanted someone to check on you.”

“Aw, thanks. I’m doing okay. We both are.”

“…Still no sign of waking up?”

“He was conscious a bit yesterday—”

What?

“—but completely out of it. Doubt he’ll really remember it. Kind of like the last few days.”

…At least a few days in here.

He could work with that until he got his medical records.

“…Hope he gets better soon; I’d like to meet him.”

“I’ll let you know the next time we’re at Julian’s.”

“Got it. See you around, Nyx.”

“See you, baby shrink.”

“Nyx!”

“School shrink?”

Hobbs huffed and left.

Nyx shifted in his seat for a minute before getting up. He walked over and stopped by the edge of the medical bed.

A part of him wanted to continue to pretend to sleep. To think more.

“…Kunsel?”

But the part that wanted fucking answers—and wanted them yesterday—won out.

He let his heartrate jump a little and slowly opened his eyes.

He and Nyx just stared at each oth—

Why are you crying?

“Nyx?”

“Oh thank Ramuh.”

Nyx grabbed him into a tight hug and kept muttering thanks to the gods of this world. Kunsel kept his arms loosely crossed over his chest, but fell into the hug. Tears fell onto his shoulder.

…Only Zack had ever cried over him.

“…Nyx?”

He didn’t recognize his own voice.

“You’re awake. You’re awake. Oh fuck. Oh, thank fuck.” Nyx pulled back and brushed his hair from his forehead. “…You have no idea how worried I was.”

“I…I don’t understand. Why am I in the medical wing?”

“…What’s the last thing you remember?” Nyx countered softly, sitting on the bed.

“…We’d been back from the mission for three days. I…”

Fever.

He had a fever.

A real, honest to the Goddess fever.

…That should have been the fist sign that he poisoned.

SOLDIERs didn’t get fevers.

“I had a fever. You had the Vernon-Millers come over.”

And that’s where things got…murky.

“Yeah. Okay…” Nyx ran a hand over his face. “After that, I took care of you in the apartment for three days before your fever spiked. That was four days ago.”

A week.

He was compromised for a week.

Kunsel swallowed the nerves. Such a weakness in Shinra would’ve been a flash sign for older SOLDIERs and the Turks to beat better sense into him.

…The Lucians were strange in that their punishments were so mild, Kunsel couldn’t truly classify them as punishments.

“…Kunsel?”

Nyx’s hands were again on his forehead. His hair was so long now. It had been a ye—

I^T _SHO^ULD B^E Y_{OU     D}E^AD      Y_OU ^FAI_LED T_HEM

He should probably cut it.

“I—Fuck. Fuck, Tilly’s gonna be pissed.” Kunsel watch as Nyx fumbled for his phone. “Yo—Yeah, I know it’s the middle of the night, but Kuns is awake. Fifteen minu—I was kind of happy that he woke up so sue me—actually, please don’t I don’t have good savings.”

That was a lie.

Nyx did have good savings. Not great, but not horrible.

Certainly not as much as Dr. Matilda, but she did make over three times as much as him.

It took less than twenty minutes for Dr. Matilda to arrive. Kunsel allowed Nyx to stay—why they bothered asking him if he wanted the other to stay or go each time was laughable—

He’ll find out anyways.

--and so they listened to the doc list out that they believed he was sick by bacteria.

Bacteria.

At any other time, he’d laugh.

To think that they—

But they wouldn’t know. They wouldn’t know about the enhancements.

…Unless she was lying.

He needed to do work. To find out who knew about him.

They would monitor him for another day, before releasing him.

That was… not ideal, but workable.

***

“Kuns! Come on, we’re going to train!”

“I—”

“And we need someone to tell us what we’re doing wrong.”

It was not workable.

There were people in the med room at all hours during his final day. And now that he and Nyx were back in the barracks, he had a rotating group grabbing him at all hours. And it was all hours. There were at least three Glaives that constantly fell asleep on the couch or crash in Nyx’s room each night.

It was… okay in the sense that he was able to study more and more people to find the mole. He hated that he was surrounded by so many, since anyone with moderately decent intel training would be able to suspect something. And while the Lucian’s training was weak, he knew that Niflheim was better. Not anywhere close to Shinra, but still better.

Kunsel knew that turning poor situations to his favor was good thing. It was a skill he did excel at.

It was just aggravating to not have made more progress on finding out what poisoned him. So far, he’d only been able to test nineteen poisons. He needed to do better.

“Hey, pretty boy. Can we talk for a minute?”

“Yes, Nyx?”

The Galahdian set down a cup of tea.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m taking a bit of leave to go home for a few days. Not long; four at the most. I’d like you to stay with Pelna while I’m gone. Or let him stay here.”
“…I’m glad you get leave,” Kunsel started slowly. “I don’t understand about Pelna.”

“You were sick as fuck—”
“I’m healed—”
“Kunsel you were out of it for a week.” Nyx’s Commander voice was getting better. “An—and I want to know that you’re actually okay. Doing okay. Remember what Tilly and Kowalski said about mismatched biology? I just want to know that there won’t be long side effects to you being sick.”

A thorn formed in Kunsel’s stomach, and his muscles screamed as he tensed them too tight.

“I’m fine, Nyx. I know what to watch for now.”

Partial truth. He was learning what poisoned him.

“…Please.”

Soft. Far, far too soft.

“You don’t have to… Okay, you don’t have to share a room with him, but just… check in with him? Okay? Please?”

…Kunsel didn’t want him to be soft.

He didn’t want this.

He…

…

…

“…I can do that.”

Nyx smiled gently and pulled him into a hug. His arms automatically came up in front of him.

“Thank you, pretty boy. Thank you.”

…When did he stop hating the nickname?

Chapter Text

Kunsel expected Pelna to show up when he didn’t go down to the Mess for breakfast. He’d been bombarded with different Glaives every day for the week, so not having any of them around was… abnormal. Nyx told him to check in with the others since he wasn’t going to be staying with Pelna.

…It was probably a test. To see if he’d follow the orders or not.

He should have left the room. Made his way into the common room or reading room or the gym o—or hell, even just walk down the hall. Something.

…

…

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to play the game. Not today.

Kunsel sighed and administered the next dose.

Nothing.

Like the last thirty-eight ones.

It wasn’t surprising. Most of these doses wouldn’t kill a nonenhanced human, let alone an enhanced SOLDIER.

He continued on, going alphabetically through the poisons that had to be injected. The smallest dose for each one, and then restarting with a second dose, and so forth until he found the one that hurt him. The rest time in between each one was the longest part of the process. He wasn’t a scientist butcher but he knew how to control and isolate variables. And it was too important to rush through. Make another mistake.

“Come on, Kunsel! A mistake isn’t the worst thing!”

Yes, it is.

“Okay, so you didn’t do it perfect the first time. You can always try again; I don’t care what the Commander says! And if you try again, you can do better!”

It doesn’t work like that.

“No need to look like the world’s ending.”

That was the problem. The world continued, even though I wanted it to stop.

I wan--wanted to—

“Kunsel!”

“Hey, Kuns!”

…Of course.

Of course, he wouldn’t be able to work. This place…

….

…

He put the poisons away, wrote down the final notes, locked up the secret room, and was at the door in under a minute.

“Hello, Altius—”

“When the fuck are you going to call me by my first name?”

“Damn, with that attitude, I’d keep it up for as long as possible,” Thatcher quipped, giving him a quick smile. “What do you say, Kuns?”

Test. Glaive vs Guard.

…

…

…He didn’t want to play these games. But when did that matter?

“I think there’s money on this and I’m not going to contribute to illegal gambling.”

Altius cursed and Thatcher laughed.

“We’re gonna go out to Bel-View to see Terra. Wanna join?”

Bel-View. A local sandwich shop.

“I’d like that,” he easily lied.

Thatcher threw an arm around him as Altius called Furia to meet them at the entrance. Several people waved at the group, and it actually took them almost an hour to leave the building.

“Kunsel! Kunsel, Kunsel, Kunsel! Come here!”

“Zack, we’re gonna be late—”

“Don’t worry, we have plenty of time!”

…

…

“…So, how do we—”

“It’s on me, I should have dragged you away sooner.”

“How’s everything going?”

He glanced up to Thatcher, who was eating a vegetarian sandwich. Kunsel thought the others would have laughed or mocked him. It would have happened in Shinra. It did happen.

“May as well give him Chocobo feed.”

“Come on, it’ll keep him light. Easier to see how far you can throw him.”

Their ‘MIA’ paperwork was still on file.

Not anyone was looking.

“I’m feeling better,” he offered, taking a bite of his own food.

“That’s good,” Thatcher said with a smile. “Scared the fuck out of us. It’s weird seeing you down. We need you.”

Kunsel paused. Thatcher met his eyes and smiled. It wasn’t halved.

…But it could be faked.

“I mean it. You… You’re fucking amazing.” Thatcher took a bite. “I know you’re technically under the Glaives, but we use the intel as well. You’re… I don’t have words. Honest.”

“You said plenty.”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Thatcher laughed.

Laughed and lightly kicked his leg.

“Asshole.”

Kunsel smiled back and shrugged.

“…Gonna miss you when you go back.” Kunsel’s eyes met his. “I mean… I know there hasn’t been any movement, but my Uncle and his grad students, and PhD students, and post-docs and fellows… Fuck, I think half the Physics department is roped in at this point… Anyway, they’re still working on it. They know what it means to you—”

No, they don’t.

No one here knows what it means to me.

What they mean to me.

“—and they’re not stopping. I know you know, but… I just wanted to say it.”

Kunsel nodded. He wasn’t sure what to say. Nothing… nothing felt right.

Believable.

The conversation naturally faded as other conversations around them grew louder. They listened in as Altius and Furia started at each other’s throats and few other Guards joined them.

…

…It was…

…

…It wasn’t like the Mess. The night dinners with other Seconds and Thirds.

It was…

…

“Kunsel, how do you feel about board games?”

“Cloud, what do you want to do?”

“Uh… well…”

“…Cloudy?”

“…It’s not really…It’s… kind of old, but…. I have a… a board game I like.”

“Ooooh! Which one? My ma and pa had ton’s of them!”

“You’re not… bored?”

“Hahaha! I knew you had jokes in you! And of course not! I love board games!”

“…Kunsel?”

“My grandparents played them every Friday night. Which one do you have?”

“I like them.”

…Comfortable.

***

Priority Two: What was he poisoned with?

He couldn’t afford to waste time.

He’d done too much of that.

There was no intel gained from the lunch. Nothing. He wasted time and needed to correct his behavior.

He needed a reeducator. That always worked before.

So, while he waited between rounds, he reviewed notes and listened to different bugs scattered across the Citadel and Insomnia. There was chatter about missions, the food being too bland—

Spoiled fucks. The eggs are real.

Not enough leave, and more of the usual bullshit. Occasionally, there was something that caught his attention; a thread he could follow. Control. But now, he needed to be focused.

…He hadn’t talked to Pelna yet, but after going out yesterday, someone should have reported him. It wasn’t… He’d probably get reprimanded by Nyx, but he could handle it.

More than connections to Niflheim, he needed to listen for more connections t—

“Kunsel!”

“Open up!”

…What the fuck?

Why?

He… He went out with them yesterday. People saw.

It didn’t…

He had work to do. He had to do something.

“Kunsel?”

Fuck.

He never got a choice.

***

Priority One: Is Shinra using Niflheim?

There were codes. Codes used between SOLDIERs. Between Turks. Between both of them.

Identifying them wasn’t going to be a problem; it was knowing how to act on them. Tseng knows that he knows. If any of them were used, then it would be purposeful. Not a message, but a threat. Kunsel was used to operating within the boundaries of threats. He knew how to weave between the blades to come out on top.

…If he did hear one, he wasn’t sure on how he wanted to act. A full confrontation could speed up the progress of returning. However, it could lead to more pain for Cloud and Zack. Waiting…

…

…

…He didn’t think he’d grow tired of waiting. Of weighing options and scenarios before acting on the most effective route to eliminate slaughter his enemies.

But he was.

Kunsel was tired of waiting.

He just wanted something to give—

“Waiting for a break is for the weak. Nothing is by chance.”

“…Fuck.”

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t wait.

People didn’t stop. Didn’t give.

It had to be him.

It had to be him.

He put the earbud back in and checked the clock. Seventeen past four.

His back molar cracked in five pieces.

…Dose one hundred and twenty-three.

Two minutes late.

The pain settled in nerves, and it made him breathe normally. It had been a while since he needed such pain to focus. It was a necessity in Wutai, but the more he went up in ranks—official and unofficial—it wasn’t needed as often.

…

…

No one had bothered him today. It had been quiet. Too quiet based upon the previous behavior.

He…

He hadn’t check in with Pelna yet.

…

…

Nyx specifically asked him to check in with Pelna.

He didn’t say how often to check in. There were no parameters.

Kunsel hadn’t asked.

In the field, check-ins were every twenty-four to forty-eight hours unless radio silence was required. Those were the parameters for weeklong missions.

But with a four-day trip…

…

…

…He couldn’t be stupid. While knowing what the punishment for not checking in would be information, it was useless. A punishment was a punishment.

It would just be a waste of time.

…It was late. It was late, but maybe this is what they wanted. To pester—torture absue force—him into doing what they wanted.

…That’s what was supposed to happen. It was normal. It was what he was used to.

It’s what… it’s what was supposed to happen.

It’s what happened.

He set the bugs to record, before closing up the secret room.

…It was a show more than anything, because it wasn’t likely that—

…

…

Pelna was awake.

“You are not trained to do a job. You are trained to do it perfectly. Anything less is unacceptable.”

He had to avoid Zack for two days.

Kunsel took a quiet breath and knocked on the door. Pelna opened it twenty point four seconds later.

“Hey, Kuns.” His voice was soft, but his eyes were sharp.

“Hi.”

…He couldn’t say more. Everything felt stuck in his throat. Pelna didn’t say anything, but leaned against the doorframe. Kunsel waited.

After another forty point eight seconds, Pelna quietly told him to come in.

I’ve grown accustomed to Bellum’s beatings. I wonder how Pelna will be different.

The Galahdian-Tenebrean gestured for him to… sit at the counter.

“Do you like hot chocolate or tea?”

“…What?”

“Hot chocolate or tea?” Pelna asked calmly. Quietly, as he pulled out a few different types of teas. “They’re typically the drink of choice for late night conversations.”

Or liquor.

All of the board members drank in the evenings. The King and his main retinue drank well into the evenings. The Glaives and Guards all did it.

It was odd that Pelna hadn’t offered any. Not that it mattered; he couldn’t get drunk.

But it was odd. Typically, one would offer liquor to loosen tongues and get information. And Pelna had to want to know why he was here now. Why he didn’t check in earlier.

…

…

No question came.

The older one stared at him and leaned on the counter. He didn’t say anything, but just looked. Studied. Kunsel wanted to morph into his most neutral stance, but it would be noticed. So, he played the fool, gently tilting his head and looked at the older Glaive with slightly wide eyes.

Pelna wasn’t budging.

…

…

Kunsel could give a little. To get what he wanted later.

“…An herbal tea would be nice.”

Honestly, he wanted a strong black tea, but it would strange for him to drink something that strong so late.

The other nodded and prepared the tea in silence. Whether he was giving Kunsel space to talk or baiting him was unknow. Silence was control. Those out of control talked and spilled information. To maintain silence was to have control.

Kunsel could win this…

…

…

…Was this a fight?

Why didn’t it feel like a fight?

Pelna handed him the cup with an option of honey or sugar. He didn’t put either in, but politely sipped the orange and floral drink.

“…What are you doing here?” He didn’t sound annoying or accusatory, but… tired? No, not the right emotion.

“I was asked to check in with you,” Kunsel said, straightening slightly.

“…You’ve been around the others. I know you’ve been doing good,” Pelna said, taking a drink. “You didn’t need to come over here at…almost eleven at night.”

“Nyx wanted me to stay here, so the logical choice was to come here in person,” Kunsel smoothly countered.

“…You could have waited until the morning,” Pelna said slowly; looking at him like he was a puzzle. “You could have waited until the morning or sent me a text.”

“If you hadn’t answered, then I would have sent you a text message.”

The other nodded, now looking at the counter. Kunsel sipped his drink to give the other time to process whatever thoughts and ideas were swirling in his mind.

“…I 

“…You don’t have to do everything that Nyx says.”

“He’s—”

“Your roommate. Your friend. I get… I get him being your guard has made everything a little shaky, but he’s not that anymore. He’s not even your direct supervisor. He’s just… He’s Nyx. And… yes, he’s going to worry and be a Mama Couerl. Astrals know he’s been overprotective as fuck for as long as I can remember. Like, you don’t even know how protective he is. How much he cares and how deeply it goes. And he cares about you.”

Pelna shifted so he was staring at him directly.

“He care about you.”

“I meant what I said. Jokes aren’t funny if you’re not laughing. And you’re not laughing.”

“He really, really does, which is why he wants you to check-in with people. It’s not because he’s gonna—Well, no, that’s a lie. He’s totally messaged, but I’ll tell him to just talk to you, because this a you and him thing.”

Of course.

It’s a test.

“Nyx…” Pelna looked serious and uncomfortable and sad all at once. “Nyx lost a lot during the war. So, takes care of those likes with every fiber of his being. Once you’re on his radar, you’re there permanently. Even if you grow distant, he’ll still care. He… He doesn’t know how to not care.”

“Oh shit. There’s… Come on, Kunsel! There’s a fire! We have to help! Come on!”

“I know that Angeal isn’t… I know we have orders. But… I want to do something. I want to help him and Sephiroth an—and even Genesis. I want to help them all.”

“—safe. With Nyx, you’re safe. But it can also feel like smothering. And we’ve talked to him about it. He’s gotten better. He really has tried. Like… like before he probably would have made me go stay with you, regardless of what you wanted. Love him, but he’s a bit hot headed and stubborn.”

“Hey Kuns! Watch this!”

“Zack! It’s not dead!”

“Oh, come on! It—Fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

“Zack! Dodge!”
…

…

“…So, maybe I should, ya know, listen more…?”

“…I’m going to let it gore you next time.”

“Aw, Kuns!”

“There are worse qualities.”

“Yeah. Yeah, there are,” Pelna agreed. “But, you can’t just let him… let him dictate your life—”

“I don’t want him to worry.”

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

There was giving. There was giving a little to get a lot and then there was fucking taking their knife and putting into your gut and what the hell is wrong with him—

“You should still prioritize what you want.”

What?

“You can worry about Nyx and not want him to worry, while still doing what’s best for you,” Pelna said softly. His eyes were soft. His face, soft. Everything in his body language was soft and open and kind and Kunsel wanted to run away. Not even… Why was he like this? Why— “So, the next time you want to take a day to be introverted and not talk to people, then take the day.”

Kunsel couldn’t move.

“You won’t get in trouble. As much as we like to baby you, you’re an adult. You can do what you want. And as long as you’re not doing anything dangerous, then who cares if you take a day to yourself? Astrals know that we are all… well, mildly clingy. So, if you need space, just say so. Or, we can have a signal, and I can call people off. I’ve done it for others, and I’ll do it for you.”

Kunsel couldn’t think.

This… This was a trap, right?

Choosing between Pelna and Nyx? Was that the test?

There was always a test.

Because a test was information. It was necessary. You moved with tests. The tests passed, the more information he got. The more control he had. Tests were important.

“…Kuns?”

Fuck .

“…Thank you for the offer, Pelna.”

The Glaive didn’t look pacified. Kunsel watched him move his hand until he brushed his bangs back. Kunsel didn’t know what he was looking for. He looked like he wanted to say something but let the hand drop.

…It… it was soft.

Comfortable.

“Hey, Kunsel? Are you…”

…

“…Come here.”

“Za—”

“I know. I know that… We’re in trouble. We are. But, it’s okay. We’ll be okay. I’ll keep you safe.”

“…That’s my job.”

“Well… then this is my turn! You’ll keep me safe the next time! You always do. Always!”

I didn’t.

I…

…

…

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorry

“Kunsel?”

…

…

“…Do you have more of the show?”

“Bob Ross?” Kunsel quietly nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

They sat on the couch as Pelna pulled up an episode. Their arms were touching. They didn’t speak during the show. He didn’t think he could say anything. Not now.

“…Want to watch another one?”

“No, thank you.” His tea was gone. It would be rude to stay longer. And… and wasteful. He wasn’t going to get information from Pelna. Not the type he… he needed. “Thank you for the drink.”

Pelna nodded.

“…You know… You can come over anytime. Not just for check-ins. Or because I’m sick or injured. You can just… come over. We’ll watch more Bob Ross. Order a pizza. Or kabobs. I’ll bribe Mrs. Lux for dessert. You know… a nice break from everything.”

“Don’t pout! The beach is gonna be the best break ever!”

…

…

“I’ll think on it. Good night, Pelna.”

He left before the other could say anything. It took everything to not use his enhancements to get back quickly.

He locked the door and all restraints were gone he grabbed a few pillows and ran into the secret room and screamed.

ImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorryImsorry

He failed them.

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He failed them.

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***

Nyx would be back tomorrow.

Nyx would be back and he had nothing to show for it.

No poisons.

No notes.

Nothing.

Kunsel sighed as he continued to listen through the recordings. The cold wooden floor felt good. Cold, but not hard.

Like home.

Like his room; cozy and secure—

“—For glory.”

“And all.”

He paused the recording. And replayed it.

“For glory.”

“And all.”

“For glory.”

“And all.”

“For glory.”

“And all.”

“For hearth and home!”

“For Crown and Country!”

…No one in Insomnia said ‘for glory and all.’ No one.

They all had heard it before.

Just not in Lucian.

But Gralean.

…It wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be.

Soporus Bellum and Celeritas Vis.

They and Fortis were the ones who were always present at the torture training sessions. The ones who tried to beat him a few times a month.

The ones who were always close to Drautos.

…Of fucking course. Like all the imbeciles in power, he has no idea.

That was fine.

Because he had a lead.

Kunsel smiled slightly and began to scan his way through the other recordings. He would need proof, but that was a hardly an issue.

If there was one thing he was good at, it was finding evidence.

And disposing of those who generated it.

Chapter Text

It was zero five hundred and thirteen. Nyx would be back tonight at twenty hundred hours.

Kunsel had seventeen hours and forty-seven minutes—and t-minus thirty-nine seconds—to get as much information as possible over Vis, Fortis, and the Bellum brothers. While Sonitus had never participated in any of the torture training, Kunsel wasn’t so foolish as to believe that he knew nothing. The brothers were practically attached to one another in every other sense. While Kunsel was continuously shocked by the stupidity and sheer obtuseness of the Eosans, no one could be that blind. That foolish.

Finding the correct threads to follow was the next step. The Kingsglaives as a whole were interconnected as a spiderweb; being refugees and outcasts in a centralized city created a bond that withstood foul personalities and moral, ethical, and political differences. It was humorous that the Captain and the Marshal didn’t cut them off by enforcing disperse groups. That was what Shinra did; very few units had more than two people from the same geographic location. By bringing together people who had no outside ties, they were able to ensure focus and loyalty around one thing: Shinra. Loyalty to Shinra was everything; no other loyalty or group would be tolerated. It pervaded everything they did. Even if you knew it was happening.

Even if you tried to circumvent it.

…

So, while he could make the argument that each and every of the Glaives were a suspect, he would never get such a large swath of time as what was currently available to investigate. He sent a short text Pelna asking for an ‘introvert day,’ which the other delightfully replied that he’d keep the others away. There was swirl of thorns in his gut, which he promptly ignored.

With the others nullified, Kunsel would be able to work.

His main targets would be Fortis, Vis, and the Bellums, along with those closest to the core four and those currently away: Nyx, the Vernon-Millers, Furia, Lux, Popov, Antol, and Simon.

…Nyx could be done last.

The others would return before him.

***

Kunsel frowned as moved around the Bellum brother’s apartment. He knew that the all in Eos were pathetically behind basic security protocols, but he was hoping for something to be in place. They did have quarters in the barracks—a crash pad that had rotating occupants—but chose to live a few blocks aways from the Citadel as it was closer to their Uncle’s shop. A perfect cover for moles. He would have noticed a hidden camera in the Barracks and it would cause too many questions if discovered. But here? In their real home? Cameras should have been everywhere. Audio bugs. Anything to record any meetings and gather blackmail.

There was nothing.

Not even a fucking camera outside the front door to track packages delivered.

It was as if the gods were mocking him. The web of lies, blackmail, torture, and pain that the Turks wove in the name of Shinra didn’t exist here, but it took him a year to get an ounce of evidence. Tseng and An—an any of the Commanders would have him removed for reeducation and training for…

…

…

…Who was he kidding? Missing so much for a fucking year, he’d be killed. He’d be taken down to a room with a drain and executed. No burial. No words.

Zack would never know. Cloud would never know.

He’d just be gone.

…

…

…He’s gotten weak. This world has made him weak, and Cloud and Zack were paying the price.

Kunsel growled and stormed into the room. He two hours before they returned.

More than enough time for him to categorically take it apart.

Each book, notebook, and scrap piece of paper. Each box in closet and bedrooms. Each floorboard. The crawlspace above the ceiling.

…

…

…

Not. A. Godsdamned. Thing.

Nothing.
Kunsel shook with rage as he hovered in the crawl space, listening as the brothers returned. They talked about normal topics. Simple topics.

Nothing he could use for blackmail.

…I could get them to talk. They have knives. A stove. An iron. Fuck, there was curling iron in the bathroom. I could make them talk and then get rid of the bodies.

…

…

It could happen. Hiding bodies was never an issue. Or, he could make it look like a break-in. Add enough wounds.

But the fallout of both brothers dying…

…

…

No. No, he couldn’t do it. He needed information, but killing his leads would only give partial answers.

…He put one of his own bugs just above a vent before sneaking out. He could wait. Use them.

Then…

…

…Well, Reno always referred to ending session as great stress relievers.

Maybe he’d give it a try.

***

Fortis didn’t live outside the Citadel, but he didn’t live in the Barracks. His cousin, Petra, was a Crownsguard. Therefore, he chose to live in the Crownsguard’s apartments.

“No, Zack. I’m not changing my mind.”

“But… we’ve always roomed together. You and me against the world. So… why not?”

“…You earned this. I know you don’t… You don’t think you did, but you did. The privileges that go with it; they are yours. I want you to have them. I want you to enjoy them. And, one day, I’ll earn it too. I don’t like getting things I haven’t earned.”

“…Okay.”

The apartment was lively. Books, pictures, games, cards and artwork were scattered across the walls and bookshelves. The walls were painted different colors. Fresh flowers and plants were on the windowsills. The dishes and cutlery were older pieces, not the usual ones in each unit. The bedding all custom. A drawer filled with random bits and pieces. A closet full of old coats and half broken appliances and bags filled with more bags. The desk filled with years old bills and mail, opened and unopened, and logbooks and half written notes.

…This…This wasn’t an apartment.

It was a home.

A home for both of them. The cousin’s items were mixed together and each room looked like they’d lived there for years. It wasn’t a place to crash while on the clock or a temporary stop until they could go home.

It was their home.

Why… Why would you settle in, making plans, when you were planning on betraying everyone? Why make a permanent place? Are you… are you so foolish as to believe that the city won’t be raised to the ground? That the Empire won’t make this a memorial of ash?

There wasn’t much in the desks, but books… those were more interesting. There were dozens of history and military books on the shelves. Specific pages were worn down.

Pages that correlated with the last seventeen official campaigns.

And five unofficial ones.

...But worn pages were not evidence. Even at Shinra, it would be a hard sell; at least officially. 

It was a start. 

He would do better. 

***

Lux’s room was unsurprisingly spotless. While technically not a Crown Citizen, they was one of four Kingsglaives that had immediate family who were citizens of Insomnia. Their room reflected that in that it was larger and far nicer than a majority of the dorms in the barracks. Though, still not as nice as the rooms of the Crownsguards. Fuck, those rooms made even Zack’s First Class suite look homely.

The security for the room, like the entire city was embarrassing.

He set off a localized EMP, as was the standard, but there were no bugs or cameras to deactivate.

…At least try to have some security, fuckers.

The laptop in the room had simple password and no encrypted files. Kunsel truly wanted to leave one of his security notes. The sheer lack of security was just appalling.

And boring.

He was far too used to the hundreds of encryptions and firewalls and disjointed servers that make up the Turks dark network. It was downright joyful to crack through each layer and see how long he had until Reno sent him a warning text.

But this?

This was painful.

Even the local shopkeepers in the Slums had more security.

…There was nothing on the laptop. Besides reports that Kunsel had already uncovered through different servers, there was nothing of interest. Absolutely nothing.

The books, notebooks, mail, and decorative boxes on the shelves and storage ones under the bed; nothing in the apartment was missed as Kunsel tore through every item. Letters to their parents and past lovers; journals from before they was ‘they’; photographs of friends and family; books on weapon maintenance and enhancements; videos over cooking; dozens of antique maps that were stored next four boxes will with knitting materials. He listened for hollowed out spots in the floor, walls, and ceiling.

Of course, there was nothing.

Not a thing to show an extra closeness to the main four suspect or to Niflheim.

…Evidence may be elsewhere, but, for now, Lux was moved lower on the person on interest list.

***

He’d never interacted with this Glaive before. The room was barebones. As if Popov was rarely there.

It was far more familiar territory than the other units that mimicked homes.

In Shinra, all but the First Class suites were like this. Just enough essentials to sleep and do work. Some would hang up posters or put nicknacks on shelves, but most grew out of the behavior. They learned to keep their personal items close. Private.

After all, anything could be used against you.

Kunsel didn’t keep anything of value in his small room. His private room.

It was the first time that Zack used his authority to break the rules. Seconds were not allowed to room by themselves. They hadn’t earned the privilege. While he and Zack had earned a room to themselves, Kunsel should have been shoved in with another as soon as Zack moved out.

But Zack, being Zack, was able to influence everyone involved in housing to get Kunsel his own room. Much smaller than all others, but that hardly mattered. It was private.

It was the one thing that made Kunsel feel reassured that Zack would smoothly transition to being a Commander.

He should have known better. Shouldn’t have been lax. Zack deserved better.

Kunsel worked his way through the room, but there wasn’t anything. Nothing that indicated a life outside of work. Nothing that indicated what he did in the Glaives.

Unlike the anger and annoyance that engulfed him earlier, this was a puzzle piece taking form.

He quickly left the room and made his way to Antol and Vis’s room, which was… a strange combination of the Fortis cousin’s home and Popov’s.

Antol’s room and belongings screamed that this was his home. There was nothing hidden; the fucker even a had a diary out in the open that expressed frustration with the King and Lucian politics. But it was also filled with unbridled loyalty to the Crown. Not over the top. Not dramatic in the way that Kunsel had been trained to shower Shinra in praise. It was…

“…You’re not worried about him?”

“…No. Well, yes, I worry, but I know he’ll be okay. And if something goes sideways, he’ll let me know and I’ll go help.”

“But we haven’t heard from in him a week.”

“I’ve gone longer with him being radio silent. It’s okay. He knows what he’s doing. Now, let’s switch subjects before he gets all embarrassed.”

“…Uh, Zack? He’s… He’s not here.”

“One detail about Kuns, he never leaves a crash pad unbugged.”

“What?!”

Vis’s side was like Popov’s. There was more evidence suggesting he did spend time here, but everything was muted. Muted and partially staged. Accidental notes and items meticulously placed. Real life wasn’t so organized.

Kunsel replayed his memories of Antol interacting with the others. He was on good terms with Vis and really liked the younger Bellum, but other than that…

…

…

…He didn’t interact with the others without them. At least, not in the Barracks. Or on missions.

He filed the information away. He had more places to be and a tight deadline.

But one thing was certain: He had to find where Popov, Vis, and the Bellum brothers actually did their work.

...He needed access to their phones and bank accounts. 

***

The Vernon-Miller’s apartment was the only one Kunsel had been in before. They insisted on having him over for dinner a few times. He’d also slept in their guest room after a particular long night at the Groggy Morrow, when a few thoroughly drunken Glaives inundated his apartment and took over every soft surface. Including his bed. What had been an annoying moment, was now paying off, as he could focus on specific items.

Like the younger’s access to the Glaive’s medical records.

Kunsel worked his way through the medical records first. The encryption on the EHRs was fairly decent—moreso than most of the city’s other security—but it took less than three minutes for him to have full access to…

…

…To everything.

All of the records, no matter the doctor or facility, were all linked within the system. Well, Vernon-Miller only had access to a select few.

Kunsel was a different story.

…I understand the convenience of wanting to have immediate access. Gods know that Shinra implemented a few systems that were similar. But to have this much access…

No.

No, he needed to focus.  

He started a mass download onto a laptop and moved around the unit. It didn’t take long to confirm the elder’s logbooks matched the official reports. He replaced them on the desk and paused. There was a small box tucked far into a compartment. He pulled it out.

…

…Letters.

Letters to Bailey Vernon. The elder sister of Rico, currently living in a care-taking facility for those with mental illness.

Kunsel skimmed through the letters, looking for anything out of the ordinary from Rico and Kowalski’s normal conversations. He’d followed them once to the facility and was… was shocked by the institution. Even the nicest psych wards in Mideel looked like asylums when compared to the one in Insomnia. It could be mistaken for an inclusive apartment building, if not for the fully functioning hospital built into the interior.

…Focus. There’s nothing here.

He returned the box to its place an—

And there was an envelope, tucked just between the crack of the divider and the desktop. He pulled it out.

It was never opened.

Kunsel made quick work of the dried glue and pulled out a… a transcript. An official record of coursework for Bailey. He glanced over the courses and paused at the note at the end.

Dissertation submitted but undefended.

…

…

…Irrelevant.  

He reclosed and returned the envelope to its rightful spot before grabbing the laptop. He’d review the medical records later, but, for now, he knew that the Vernon-Millers weren’t suspects.

***

Simon was one the only one of the potential inner circle that Kunsel had chosen to interact with before. He was a quieter Glaive, softspoken and far more content analyzing satellite images and maps over being in the thick of a fight. They’d talked about different imaging techniques during a calm moment during a mission. Well, it started as imaging techniques. It morphed its way into talking about music. Then folklore. Then complaining about others until daybreak.

It was… unexpected.

Kunsel hadn’t been at his apartment, but it very much reflected Simon’s mannerisms and topics of choice.

The room was soft. Far softer than any other room he’d seen. Plush pillows and thick blankets. Rugs covered almost every surface. Hell, even the mats in the kitchen were dense and squishy all at once. It wasn’t what one would expect from a miliary barrack.

It also wasn’t hard to find anything. Each paper neatly and painstakingly organized. Kunsel did the rounds, but wasn’t surprised that weren’t any hidden crevices or pockets. It was so strange; even the Seconds hid special items away. It didn’t make sense for no one here to hide away their most secret and private moments. Just putting something at the back of desk was… laughable. Hardly a secret.

Kunsel sighed and put the last paper back. There was nothing that suggested Simon was anything other than a slightly more dedicated Glaive.

…You hate violence. You hate bloodshed.

…

…Why would you associate with those who relish in it?

He was ready to leave, when the bed caught his eye. More specifically, the footboard. Kunsel narrowed his eyes and felt along the wood.

…My apologies, Simon. My apologies.

Kunsel pried open a small panel. A hidden pocket in a cabinet was normal. A bed? Now, that was clever.

He pulled out the papers an—

…

…

…Oh. Oh, that would explain it.

Kunsel glanced over the letters. Each letter contained both professional information and intel as well as… rather poetic expressions of feeling that actually complemented the explicit photographs that Gray sent Simon. Kunsel knew that Gray was something of an actor, but he never would have expected him to be this… romantic.

He’d need to investigate Gray’s room the next time he was at the Hunter’s HQ to insure there wasn’t a hidden code in Simon’s letters, as was standard practice.

And if there was nothing, then it opened up another avenue; Simon's connection to one of the highest ranking Hunters made him a pawn in the Mole's game. 

***

Furia and Manius’ room looked disastrous. Like a bomb had gone off. Much like a room kept too clean, a room that looked atrocious was a sign of an amateur. The best spies were designed to blend in; if a superior told you to keep a room too clean or too messy, then you were being set up.

Kunsel knew that all too well.

…Made it happen.

Zack didn’t need to be burdened by that knowledge. And the General knew.

While Kunsel did not suspect Manius to be a mole, he had little doubt that the four had been trying to use him. He was cousins with Salvus and their mutual uncle was on the King’s council. It was a perfect set up; whether Furia was being used or a willing participant, the four could gain access to intel and policies through Manius.

Like their exact locations and formations when breaking the Norduscaen Blockade.

Letters from classmates and old friends in remote villages without access to reliable cell towers talking everything from politics to the latest TV shows and radio programs; journals covering stress from university courses and guilt of being relating to an Insomnian family—

Idiot. That’s a connection to use.

—to anger over the Crown’s inactions toward Galahd and news reports; hundreds of social media posts, public and private, detailing daily movements and enough sensitive data to break into any online account; postcards and souvenirs from Altissia and Tenebrea; instruction manuals for items no longer present; sporting equipment and random dumbells that didn’t match; bookshelves filled with games, library books, and vinyl records.

He dug his way through the whole apartment, making meticulous notes of the information present. He spent a considerable amount of time pouring though Furia’s social media and journals. Like with the previous refugees, a part of him clearly hated Insomnia and the King for how little he tried to restore the bombed out and desolated areas of the Kingdom. However… the emotions were different.

Raw.

Venomous.

…It wasn’t uncommon for spies to leave specific evidence to be found. Red condors and such.

But few were trained on how to make it real. To press so hard into the paper that you left an indention on the next page or two—or just tore through the damn thing. Making the handwriting realistically slopy. It was a sharp turn or a slow degrade, but jumbled mixes with certain words being written quickly and then long pauses between phrases and he’d sort out the anger, hatred, and frustration. The self-hatred and the guilt would follow along quickly. Using their resources to try and help the few that remained was so fucking hard when the ones handing you a lifeline were the same ones that left scars so deep on your home that they bled over onto your body. Over and over; trying to grab what little you could with the hope that you’d be the one to protect and preserve and secret away what little was left. He’d know that he’d be burned during the process. But that was fine as long as the goal succeed. As long as he could recover what belong to him. To the few who remained below the cliffs. When you knew you couldn’t fully recover what was destroyed, then safekeeping what remained was the most important. Getting what little you could do something for those that remain—

…

…

…

…Furia was involved. No mole would leave out someone so clearly opposed to their target. However, he would never be fully integrated. No good would come from a person so emotional. The only thing would be to use them. Use them until there was nothing left. Then break apart the body for scraps and move to the next person.

Kunsel closed the notebooks.

…Furia would be executed by the end of this. Whether by the moles or the Lucians, this type of behavior wouldn’t be tolerated. He was going to be killed.

…

…It made sense. No such weakness could ever be tolerated.

He stared at the notebooks.

…Furia liked the Bellum brothers. Fortis. Vis. And so many more. He was friends with Altius and Thatcher.

He wrote these thoughts without a care.

…

…

…He had no idea that he was being used. That didn’t matter. Not really.

It was what was done.

It was what was always done.

…

Kunsel shook his head and put the notebooks back.

He needed to continue on.

He couldn’t change that Furia was going to be executed.

And an execution wasn’t always horrible. After all, being used like this without knowing… They’d never trust him again. He’d always be watched. Monitored like a beast, and…

…He was going to die.

Kunsel couldn’t fix that.

Couldn’t stop it.

He had to know if Shinra was working with Niflheim.

That meant gathering the evidence and showing proof of Furia’s incompetence.

…

…He wasn’t the first person Kunsel led to death. 

He needed irrefutable proof that the moles were using Furia. He needed something from Furia and then something from the four.

Until then… nothing would be gained.

…

…

Kunsel continued to look through different memos and half scraps of paper. The scribbled notes…

…

Were all on the same type of paper.

The exact type used for orders.

It was a special paper, designed to not be damaged by water. It could be folded and crumpled and then reopened without damage. You could still write on it.

The only downside was that it burned quickly. Far more quickly than any other type of paper.

…

Kunsel frowned and laid them all out. The words on each one were different, of course. Each note would pertain to a different tactic or movement. But… over half of them had the same two numbers: zero and five. It wasn’t uncommon for them to have a string of numbers attached to different orders, but zero and five in succession and on so many…

…

…He hadn’t seen it before. He’d seen two-hundred and forty-three codes and none had zero followed by five.

…

…

…He would need to find the marching orders for the other four before they left for their mission. Because if they had this code, then it was a connection. A way to tie them togeth—

…

…

How did they get access to the paper? It was kept away from the Barracks; stored in the Citadel proper—Crownsguard territory.

Is this why Fortis is involved? He doesn’t have direct access, but is close to the ones who would have the key.

…Each memo was evaluated before distribution. While the Glaives were more likely than the Monster Hunters below the Plate to ignore chains of command, each memo was strictly adhered to.

So how did this go unnoticed?

…

…

…Along with finding whatever hiding hole the main suspects used, he needed to break into Drautos’ office. While the man annoyed and angered Kunsel on a daily basis, even he couldn’t be so foolish as to overlook something like this. Not when it was one of the few things he did lecture the men on.

...Are you... Are you aware? Do you keep them close because you suspect something is wrong? Are you letting them be to get to those higher up in the Command? Glauca? 

...Then why not be happy I took the ship? Or was that compromise in your plan? Do you have a plan?

...

It didn't add up. Make sense.

However...

Tomorrow was Friday.

Friday meant the King and his retinue drank.

Kunsel pocketed one of the memos and restored the room.

***

He stood in front of Nyx’s room.

Had been standing there for the last twenty minutes.

It was stupid. Foolish. A waste of time.

Nyx would be back in forty-two minutes.

…

…He didn’t move.

Open the door. Open the door and look through his belongings. You’ve done it before. You’ve done it hundreds of times. You’ve bugged him. Listened to him dozens of other times. Just open the door and review what is there. You know what’s there; just look at it again. It’s not hard. It’s not wrong. He could be a spy. He could be a liar. This isn’t wrong.

His logic did little to stop his heart from being bruised against his ribs. The nausea creeping up his throat.

It was stupid. Stupid and pointless. He’d already gone through Nyx’s vacant apartment. He’d reviewed the year-old unit.

This wasn’t different. This was just another part of him.

And Kunsel had already seen it multiple times.

…He had to move.

Don’t you care about Zack and Cloud?

He opened the door.

His room was… simple. Simple, when compared to other apartments. Perhaps not Popov’s, but it was warmer. Lived in.

Kunsel opened the closet. All Nyx’s clothes were clearly worn. Resewed and patched. But nothing looked bad. It reminded him of the clothes he wore as a child. Everything was old, but they looked nice. His Grandma repaired every little tear.

…

…He didn’t know what that meant. Not back then.

The desk was more organized than one would think. Nyx, for all his behavior, took his job seriously. He was dedicated, even when he didn’t agree with the methods or plan. All the same.

It was the same as the last time he reviewed his belongings. Nothing out of place.

He shut the door and sat on the couch.

…He could hear the vans pulling up.

…

…

Normal people watched TV.

He turned on the TV to a program he’d watched with Nyx before. And… snacks. Food was normal.

He could pretend.

He was good at that.

He was trained… to keep Zack safe. To keep Cloud safe.

He…

Why was he… No. No, he was fine. He was fine.

Had to be.

Always had to—

Footsteps.

A key in the lock.

The handle—

“Kunsel? Pretty boy?”

As soon as he rounded the corner, Kunsel saw the exhaustion fall away. Nyx’s eyes softly lit up and he smiled at him—

Where did he take a shower?

“…Hi.”

“Hey.” Nyx set his bag on the ground and walked over. “Miss me?”

“It was quiet,” Kunsel said. The practiced sarcasm failed him.

“I bet! Though, I’ve got some photos that say you had some fun.”

“You all are persuasive.”

“Come on,” Nyx rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen, “your friends—"

White static shrieked in his ears.

“--and I’m glad to know you weren’t totally alone.” Nyx sat next to him and threw an arm on the couch behind him. He grabbed some of the snacks.

“…Was the trip what you wanted?” Kunsel asked after a few minutes of the TV droning on. He couldn’t ask more questions as Nyx never mentioned why he was going back to Galahd. There was nothing in either of the rooms that gave him clues as to what he was doing. Ostium mentioned something about it being… ceremonial. Almost religious.

…

…Looking up a Galahdian ceremony felt…

“…What? Why are you looking at me like a new puzzle?”

“Just… I don’t want to be rude.”

“You’re never rude! Well, unless you’re trying to be, but even then you still sound polite—”

“Zack.”

“Okay, okay!”

…

…

“…So…you gonna ask?”

“…Are you… Can I ask what that phrase means?”

“The… Oh! The Old Gonga one? Yeah! That’s not private.”

“It was,” Nyx said, giving him a strange smile.

…

…And that was it. He didn’t elaborate.

Which was fine.

It was his right.

No one owed him an explanation.

…

…

“That’s good.”

Nyx quirked an eyebrow and a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. Kunsel firmly looked back at the TV.

Besides quiet chewing and the low hum of the fan, the TV was the only real noise for the next twenty minutes. Kunsel could feel the other’s eyes on him every few minutes, but didn’t take the bait. He would not be the one to break the silence. Betting silence was hardly the worst thing he’d been silent through.

The silence stretched for another ten minutes.

Then, a sigh.

And… different. The air was different. He snuck a look at Nyx and saw… disappointment?

“How much he cares and how deeply it goes. And he cares about you.”

“Once is a failure. Twice is disloyalty.”

The arm was still on the back of the couch. Just above him.

“I’m sorry. I should—I shouldn’t hug without asking.”

He slowly leaned over and let his head hit Nyx’s shoulder. The other stiffened slightly, before relaxing. But the arm didn’t move.

Why? Why aren’t you…

…What more do you want?

“…Tired?” Nyx’s voice was soft. “Want to go to bed?”

“…I want to finish the show,” Kunsel replied quietly.

“Cold?”

A slight twitch in the arm.

He hummed and shrugged, but the arm didn’t move.

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

There was no judgement in Nyx’s voice.

Only warmth.

Chapter Text

“I thought Noctis was doing better in geometry?”

“He was—or acted like he was—but now he’s doing everything, including offering sit in on council meetings, to avoid his homework. Ignis says the tutoring isn’t going anywhere either.

“Gladiolus was good at geometry. Perhaps—”

“No. The last time I had him come over to help with anything beside training, Noctis ended up calling Prompto and nothing got done."

“Have you tried talking to their homeroom teacher?”
…

…

Why are they… boring?

Kunsel was making his way to Drautos’s office. He’d stopped at The Shield’s and The Marshall’s offices just for good measure, but didn’t find anything new in them, even with the new information from his search.

Fucking morons.

Kunsel’s plan was to take as many pictures as possible of the materials in Drautos’s office and then study them when he could hide away from the Glaives. He set up a few bugs earlier in the day to listen in as the King and his retinue met for drinks.

Of course, like most things in this fucking world, it wasn’t going to plan.

First, Drautos was sent out early. While that assisted with making sure no one would notice him in his office, it did mean that he was missing a key figure in the King’s discussion.

Late night drinks among high-ranking officers during an active war meant discussing the true reality of the war; not propaganda given to the masses. The true objectives of different campaigns would be laid out and then woven into existing plans, so no one would know what they were doing. Words of spies would be spoken over strong drinks. Resources would appear and disappear at the snap of fingers and quiet hums.

And not everyone who showed up to the meetings would walk out of the room.

…These meeting were not supposed to be about how their children were performing in school.

Before this, they spent seventeen minutes and forty-three seconds talking about an old mission, and then before that they had only spent seven minutes and fifty-one seconds talking about the war. And even then, it was generic memos that had already gone out. What little information they discussed that wasn’t barrack knowledge, Kunsel had already found out through his network.

It was supposed to be a productive night of gathering information that he wouldn’t have been able to before.

But, no, instead, he was hearing about the Prince’s and Prompto’s grade—

Kunsel froze.

There were bugs in Drautos’s office.

Bugs.

The only bug that should be in there was the one that Kunsel set up months ago.

There had never been bugs in Drautos’s office before.

Cameras in the halls? Yes, obviously. But they were basic. Kunsel could’ve manipulated the footage when he was child, basic.

Actual bugs in an office…

…

…

…Why do you have cameras? Why bug your office when no one else has?

This….

…

Kunsel frowned and reached for the EMP in his pocket. It could be easy enough. Set it off. Explore everything. Get out.

Except, he didn’t know what kinds of cameras and bugs were in there. He didn’t know where their recordings were going to. Or if disabling them would set off any alarms. It was easy enough to work around the security already installed in the Citadel, as the cameras were visible if you knew where to look. And he always knew where to look.

…Kunsel let go of the EMP and walked away, his mind racing.

The cameras and bugs are new. I’ve been in your office and around it before. You had any. What changed? Wha—

…

…

…

Security was upgraded when threats were closing in.

Threats, like moles. Did Drautos know more than he was letting on? Was he aware of the moles and wanted to have more security in place for when he was away?

…

…

…No. No, that didn’t fit the pattern.

After verifying Highwind’s information and breaking several of Niflheim’s codes, he knew that the information they were receiving was general knowledge of their movements and plans. Anyone in the Glaives—or the Crownsgurads—could have received and passed on the intel on. It wasn’t classified—or that highly valuable. If he hadn’t been here for so long, Kunsel might have assumed that Niflheim was doing so well simply because the Lucian movements were predictable.

“On what grounds do you think you have the authority to order the capture of an enemy vessel?”

…That wasn’t predictable. And it never fully sat right with him. Anyone in a war would want to have an advantage. Even if Drautos was angry that Kunsel was the one who captured the ship, he could have falsified the reports. Credit could’ve gone to Salvus or another person. Or, he could’ve taken the credit himself. Retroactively given the order.

…But he hadn’t.

And he never seemed… okay about them having access to the technology. That they were close to having their own airships.

…

…

…And he had access to the paper.

He could give out orders.

Have them destroyed.

Place blame.

As Kunsel settled into the rafters, listening to the men drone on and on about their children, he let all the pieces of information so far gathered swirl in his mind.

Drautos preparing for the moles… wasn’t unreasonable. After all, The Captain of the Kingsglaives was different from The Marshal and the Shield. He hadn’t grown up with the King, which counted for part of his behavior when working with them. But even removing that variable, Drautos was… colder. Calculating. He was precise in his work and…

“Yo, Tseng! What’re you doing here?”

“Hello Zack. Zelda.”

“Sir.”

“Oh, come on, Tseng! You’ve known Kuns for a while now. Why all the formality?”

“It’s protocol, Zack.”

“And he’s formal with everyone besides you. You’re the exception here.”

“That’s so stiff! I’m a Commander now, so I say you can be informal with people!”

…

…

“…You’re supposed to say ‘Yes, Zack!”

“We’ll take it under consideration, Commander. Also, you have a meeting with Director Lizard.”

“Huh? When?”

“In forty-seconds.”

“Wha—Okay, I’m going! See ya later, Kuns!”

“Don’t dent a wall.”

…

“…How long will this assignment be, sir?”

“Only a week. The details are here, including your partners. I expect to see you back.”

“Of course, sir.”

Is that why I didn’t notice before? Because you mimic them?

And it wasn’t a real mimic. Drautos was angry. Angry and crass, whereas the Turks held their emotions.

“Just one tear, sweetheart. One tear and it’ll stop.”

Most of the time.

His heart races and sharp pain pulsed in his back. He forced a silent breath deep into his lungs and closed his eyes. He was glad that the conversation below was being recorded; there were too many thoughts in his mind for him to fully concentrate.

Who are you preparing for? The moles… or…

…

…

…

Did you plant the bugs?

Kunsel’s eyes shot open as the new thought lay heavy on his mind. There was laughter below him, but a chill crept into his bones.

The security in this world was pathetic. Weak and inefficient. There weren’t proper standards or procedures in this world. At least, for the Lucians. Altissia had more. And he hadn’t been to Tenebrae or Niflheim. Maybe… maybe they had better security.

Maybe the moles were tapping Drautos’ office.

It made sense.

The Kingsglaives were winning battles they shouldn’t have. They were gaining intel and equipment they shouldn’t have. Niflheim would need to retaliate. Planting bugs in Drautos’ office would help them gain intel and since the moles were most in the Kingsglaives, it was easier for them to plant the bugs there than in the Marshal’s or the Shield’s office.

And none of the dumbasses were smart enough to get close to the King.

“…What about Iris? I heard she’s exceling at soccer this year.”

“She’s got one hell of kicking leg! Her team is doing well in the tournament.”

…And, truly, it wouldn’t take much to get close to this King.

The most powerful people in this country, and they spend hours talking about their children.

“Did you see Leila’s report card? She excelling in math and science, of course.”
“Naturally. My Don is quite well in both as well, and top of the grade in gram—What are you doing out here! Maddy, I am so sorry, let me get our newest one back upstairs.”

Don, surprisingly, turned out to be a decent person. He didn’t remember Kunsel from his very brief stay at their house, but that was okay. He was a good IED technician, until they stumbled across an unmarked landmine field. The bitch made a great fuss at his funeral, but never followed through on the promise ‘to help his remaining brothers.’ Thankfully, Kunsel was good at holding others accountable. Especially through their accounts.

“…Call it a night, gentlemen?”

What?

Why—

…It was close to 3am.

Kunsel vaguely paid attention as the men said their goodbyes. He knew he was scattered and failing, but…

…

…

Four hours.

He lost four hours.

This…

Unacceptable. This was unacceptable.

***

Kunsel nursed his beer, watching everyone in the bar. His original plan was to avoid going out and stalk his targets to wherever they’d go after spending a few hours at Julian’s bar.

That plan was destroyed when Pelna and Altius grabbed him after a training session and basically forced him into a car, while Nyx laughed in the background.

Now, they were all here.

The Bellums and Vis were in a corner with Furia and a few other Glaives. Fortis chose to join his cousin this evening, but Kunsel had little doubt he’d join the others when the retreated away from the bar. Popov was on a mission and wouldn’t be back for a week. His leg twitched. They were smiling and laughing like they weren’t planning on betraying everyone.

It was infuriating.

He should have seen it.

He was trained to see it. The subtle motions and looks. The words with double meanings. To smile so that your lit up eyes distracted them from the knife being unsheathed.

He should have seen it sooner. No matter how different this world was from Gaia, he should have seen it.

People didn’t change.

They never changed.

“—so, what’s your thoughts, Pretty Boy?”

“I think Altius is going to lose her new TV money to Pelna in two shots,” he boredly replied, glancing over to the pool table, where it would take nineteen precise moves for her to win. Or… “That, or Tiffany distract Pelna enough so she can move the seven ball. Then, she’ll lose in three shots.”

Nyx and Ostium raised their eyebrows and followed his line of sight. Kunsel smirked at their shocked expressions as the barmaid had Pelna whirl her around since “it was her favorite part of the song”, leaving the Pelna’s last ball vulnerable to Altius moving it a few centimeters to the right. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough to delay the inevitable.

“…Do you have everyone clocked?” Nyx asked as Pelna cursed up a storm at his missed shot.

“Not yet.” But, he would.

“Fucking hell, kid.” Kunsel lightly narrowed his eyes, but otherwise kept his expression schooled. If he heard another ‘pouting’ comment, he might do something… irrational.

…Or, maybe that’s what I need to do to get sent back out in the field.

He was never going to corner Tummelt if he was stuck in Insomnia. Yes, he had the number, but first impressions were best made in person. 

The bar erupted into a small commotion as Pelna did win in another two turns, resulting in him chasing Altius around the bar to collect his earnings. It was chaotic as chairs, tables, and even people moved around to try and hinder the two.

Kunsel smile and kept his head moving in the direction of the chase, but his eyes were fixated on the Bellums. Vis had gone to the restroom a few minutes ago, which meant he took the side exit to leave the building.

“I’m heading out. See you back home in a bit.”

“Sure. Pick up some noodles on your way back?”

“If the stalls are still open.”

“Marney’s is always open.”

The older Bellum lightly hit the younger’s shoulder before disappearing out the front door.

…That was a whispered conversation. Why…?

Kunsel downed his beer and smiled made his own excuses to go to the restroom as the younger got up to go the bar. He paced himself to be just behind him and dropped a bug into his jean pockets. They were waterproof and magnetic, so if they weren’t found, then it could discretely live in their washing machine. He ducked into a stall for a minute and waited a few minutes. He ducked out as Lux walked in.

“Can you tell Nyx I’m going for a walk? It’s a little loud.”

“Yeah, they act little kids sometimes,” Lux agreed with a grin. “I’ll even give you a few minutes head start. Gods know how overprotective he is.”

Kunsel hummed and smiled his approval, before heading out of the bar.

The alleys and side streets in migrant sector of Insomnia almost felt like main streets compared to Midgar. They were fairly well lit and not piled high with rubbish, trash, and broken items and people. It was like a simulated challenge for potential recruits; staying in the shadows and avoiding the few and very obvious cameras.

He followed behind the older Bellum from a fair distance. The other walked for almost an hour to a small apartment building that Kunsel knew was a local spot for drug deals and one night stands. He went to the roof and made his way down the interior side staircase to listen in on the conversation. It would be easy for him to duck into another room if someone else came along.

Of course, there were no cameras to dodge.

“Took you long enough,” came Vis’s gruff voice.

“I wasn’t going to risk a car; not after the last beating,” the elder Bellum shot back. “Not sure what the fuck he’s worried about; we never take taxis directly here.”

Fuck.

As far as Kunsel was aware, no one knew he was investigating this. For their superior to be aware…

Stop it. There’s nothing that proves they know it’s me.

…There’s nothing that proves that they weren’t expecting him either.

“What’s the next move?”
“Got too many people not reading between the lines. Gonna have to start thinning the herd.”

What?

“Everyone has a role to play. And not all roles are permanent. Remember that, cadet.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“…Accident in town or a mission?”

In town—

“No idea. Orders will come down soon enough. You know he doesn’t give us info in advance.”

Bellum hummed in agreement and they continued to talk to each other about nothing, while Kunsel’s mind raced.

Accidents in town? That was… control.

Accidents on missions? Easy work. Accidents already occurred even when everything was perfect. It wasn’t even investigated.

But to order assassinations and hits in Insomnia?

…In Midgar, death was cheap. Bodies could be found in all Sectors below and on the Plate. It wasn’t newsworthy. It was Shinra’s control.

But Insomnia wasn’t Midgar. Their government wasn’t at all like Shinra. They didn’t have Turks. They didn’t have SOLDIERs; no matter how much magic the Glaives could possess they were not SOLDIERs.

So, to kill here…

…He needed more information.

He didn’t have enough.

He didn’t—Couldn’t—

“…Are they really not coming?” Kunsel leaned back against the wall. “Fuck. Could’ve actually gone a date.”

“Whatever. We’ll deal with it later.” They were move closer to the door. Kunsel leapt up to the next floor. “…I’m gonna head back. Soni wants noodles and the only good stall might still be open.”

“When are you going to invite him?”

There was no reply and Kunsel watched them go their separate ways.

He waited on the next floor, letting the conversation replay over and over in his mind.

And on the recorder.

It wasn’t hard proof; there were no names given and the words weren’t explicitly treasonous, but it was a start. With other evidence, he might have a case.

…

…

…

Sonitus wasn’t involved. That was unexpected, given how close the brothers were. Why didn’t Sirius tell him?

…Sonitus was one of the main weapon’s specialists for the Glaives. He had unlimited access to the armories and was now on the main plan for their own airships. By keeping him in the dark, he could get more information from him. Help his cause without putting a target on him.

…

…Or he’ll pin the blame on him and walk away unscathed.

It would be simple. Simple an—

Footsteps. Someone was going towards—

Towards the room where Vis and Bellum were. Kunsel leapt down and crept back to his spot.

The person in the room wasn’t speaking, but walking all over. He couldn’t hear any bugs or cameras.

The person stopped.

“…Well?” Drautos’s voice came through a phone. Kunsel tensed, ready to move.

“They were here,” Popov’s answered calmly. “What would you like me to do, sir?”

“…Keep monitoring. Await my next instructions.”

“Sir.”

Kunsel silently moved up to the roof. He watched Popov walk out the back entrance and check is phone. He muttered something about people losing track of one person. Kunsel stored that away, along with everything else.

…Drautos.

Drautos knows about Bellum and Vis.

…

…

…In what capacity are you acting? Are you a mole, too? Or are you investigating them?

He had to break into his office. Or tail him when they were on a mission. Something. Because this bullshit was getting annoying. He needed to know what the fuck was going on. Not knowing…

“Kuns! Kuns, come one!”

“Um, Kunsel? I-I have a question about the ma-materia.”

“Let’s go!”

“Zack, slow dow—What?!”

“Haha, don’t worry, Cloud! Angeal’s sword is way heavier than you!”

“Zack.”

The walk back was quiet and loud. Static rang in Kunsel’s ears as different conversations floated around him.

“You owe me a hundred gil.”

“I do not!”

“Are you sure that’s the right dress?”

“Obviously! It’s the only red dress I own!”

“What about this place?”

“Kitchen closed three minutes ago?”

“Fuck. I just want a burger.”

“Happy Birthday, bitch!!”

“What are we doing?”

“Just a small surprise for Zack. It’s okay.”

“…I don’t trust your smile.”

“Aw, Cloudy, you’re picking up on my training.”

“…I can call him. He’ll be here in two—Wait’s the my phone!”

“It’s a surprise for his birthday. Would you really mess with that?”

“Us pulling a prank… Is something he wants?”

“It’s Zack. I stopped questioning his logic a long time ago.”

…It was the beginning of August.

Cloud’s would come first. Then, Zack’s. Aerith’s wasn’t until February. Meyers in March, close to his. Garreth in November. Reno’s…

Hot anger boiled in his stomach.

…They were supposed to celebrate. Get takeout and watch movies or go out for a drink and then dancing and then crash in a random hotel room. Eat breakfast that wasn’t fake eggs and week-old bread and bitter water claiming to be coffee. They were supposed to exchange gifts and laugh them off, but end up hugging and calling their parents or Ma.

It was supposed to be fun.

It was supposed to be safe.

He was supposed to keep them safe.

He—

“Where the hell—Kunsel?”

Nyx was in front of him. Their TV was on as was the stove light and a lamp. Everything else was dark.

“Is there something you need, Nyx?” He automated. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to shower in boiling water until his failures were burned out of him. “It’s late—”

“That’s why I’m up,” Nyx said, with a small sigh. “Did you look at your phone at all after you left?”

“No.” Not a lie. He opened it— “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Thirty missed calls.

Ninety-seven texts.

“…Will I need to speak to the Shield or the Marshal? Or the Captain?”

“Why would you--?” Nyx frowned and stared at him. Again, he felt like a puzzle being studied before a piece was touched. “…You’re not a prisoner anymore. And we’re not on a mission, so this wasn’t even MIA. This… Okay, we’re all a bunch of overprotective and worried Chocobos, but you’re not in trouble. Just… Can you please check your phone once an hour? Just so we don’t wonder where the hell you went and about start a damn search party. It’s been almost five hours.”

“That’s not a lot of time,” Kunsel said lightly, walking into the kitchen. It wasn’t. People had to be missing for at least a week—

What if you went looking for them after five hours? Instead of being a good little toy?

“Maybe not in the day, but night’s different. You never know what can happen,” Nyx stressed, leaning back against the counter.

Oh. Cultural difference with the daemons and Scourge.

“It’s Insomnia. You have some of the best security in this world here.”

A complete lie, but Nyx really didn’t need to know that. The more holes, the better for him to move about.

“I know. I know. I just…” Nyx looked at him carefully. “…Thank you for letting Micheal know that you were heading out.”

“Of course,” Kunsel replied slowly. That… it didn’t make sense for Nyx to say that. “It would be rude to just leave.”

The other didn’t say anything, but just stared at him.

“…You know… You can talk to me. If you want to. Or Pelna. I know you’re not as close to everyone else yet, but anyone here will listen to you.”

He was quiet. Quiet and soft and strong and warm. Like when they watched TV or had dinner way too late or walked on the beach.

“…Cloud’s birthday is next week. Zack’s is next month.” Kunsel said softly. The words felt hollow and hallow. “I was… I lost track of time when I first got here. I missed it.”

Being shut up for so long and not knowing if this World was a simulation was his excuse for Cloud’s birthday.

But Zack’s…

…He forgot. Between the research and trying to figure things out, he forgot. Like the failure he was, he forgot Zack’s birthday. And dared to do something on his own.

“…Who are Cloud and Zack?”

Who— Howfuckingdareyoutheyarethemostimportnatpeopleinallworldsthey’resunshineandlightandgoodhowthefuckdoyounot—

…

…

…I…

…

…I haven’t…

…

…

…

He hadn’t mentioned them. He never mentioned them.

Who are Zack and Cloud?

Friends.

Family.

Home.

He…

Too much. Too much info. They’ll use them. He can’t—not again. He can’t let it happen again.

“Kuns—”

“I’m tired. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Kun—”

He shut his bedroom door and automatically went to touch the lock that wasn’t there—

…

…

There was a lock on the door.

Chapter Text

There was a lock on the door.

There was a new lock on his door.

It must have been put in while he was out, because it wasn’t there this morning. It wasn’t. He always looked around the room. Always checked.

It was new.

It was new.

…And Kunsel didn’t know what to think. A lock was… A lock was everything. It was privacy. It was control. It was… A chance. A reward. A… everything. It was everything.

And he didn’t know what he did to earn it. Deserve it.

If it was for the airship, then it would have come in months ago. This… He hadn’t done anything spectacularly. Noteworthy. Nothing. So why…

He didn’t sleep that night; just stared at the door.

What did I… Nothing. Not a thing. Not since the airship—all the rest of this bullshit is jus—just basic. A completed job doesn’t earn rewards. Not—not for grunt work.

It didn’t make sense.

Nothing… nothing makes sense.

***

“Morning, Kunsel.” Nyx was leaning against the counter, looking at him the same soft eyes that made him want to punch something. “You want breakfast here or do you want to go down?”

Why are these people so fucking weird.

But… He didn’t want the food here. Or at the mess. He wasn’t hungry, but he needed to eat. He was enhanced.

Normal. He needed to be normal.

“…We can go down to the mess,” he replied, walking pass him to get some water. “It’ll be quiet as up here, but with better food.”

“Fucking brat.” Nyx smiled slightly. “You miss out on half the night, but still think you can guess who’s too hung over for food?”

“You’re all way too predictable.” He didn’t even know if this was a lie. The Glaives had patterns and routines and were predictable as a unit. But the individuals… Some were and some weren’t and he still didn’t have a good lead on anything.

“Okay, then. Tell me who’s gonna be down there,” Nyx challenged, slipping on shoes.

“Pelna, because you’ve already texted him. Ostium, because R didn’t let him finish the second glass of whiskey and he switched to beer. Lux, because Mrs. Lux is on duty this morning. Salvus and Manius will be there since they had a full meal before drinking. R&K are fine, due to the two-drink limit, but they won’t join us as it’s Sunday and K makes Tenebrae toast. Arra, because Julian cut him off after he refused to drink water. Simon, because he was one of the DDs and never misses days we have pancakes. Fortis will be with his cousin for the Crownsguard breakfast. Altius with Beatrix will be there but will still be hungover as Beatrix and went drinking after the bar closed to celebrate Beatrix passing her summer finals.”

They were just outside the Mess when Kunsel finished his analysis. Nyx didn’t say anything, but opened the door to reveal Ostium, Salvus, and Manius sitting down with their trays, Arra and the younger Bellum sitting off to the side, Simon by a corner with a full stack of pancakes with Lux, and then Altius and Beatrix lying down on a table with a single tray of plain toast between them. Kunsel couldn’t help the small smirk that formed as Nyx stared at him.

“…Seriously, what the fuck…?” Nyx muttered in Galahdian under his breath as he walk over to get food. Kunsel trailed after him.

At least I’m still getting some things correct.

He put on his best smile as Mrs. Lux appeared from behind the food line.

“You’re late boys! I’m almost out of the best items.”

“Aw, I know you’d save us something,” Nyx said with a grin.

“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Lux replied, pulling out two caramelized peach pancakes.

And put both on Kunsel’s tray.

“…Of course.”

“Uh, Mrs. Lux—”

“Now, now, don’t look at me like that sweetie,” Mrs. Lux said with a smile. “You more than deserve a treat.”

And his blood froze.

“You’re too kind.”

“Not hardly,” Mrs. Lux said, adding more food to his plate. “Go on and enjoy your Sunday.”

He smiled and numbly followed Nyx.

A treat.

A treat.

…

…

What did I do? I—I this and the lock—what did I do? She’s friends with the King and the others; has been for almost their whole lives. Did they say something? Hint something? Why would she do that? Nyx has seniority. He should have gotten both. At least one. He—

…

…He hasn’t been on mission for a while. And when we’re out, Drautos often criticizes him. In public and private. Nyx…

…

…

…He was with me when I was sick. Then took more leave to go to Galahd…

…

…Are they punishing him? Using me to prove a point—but what would that be? I was sick. They didn’t know about the mercenaries near Highwind. Or the Mole—or maybe, fuck I need to do more digging motherfuckers.

That’s… that’s got to be it. They’re… maybe they want me to do something. Give me a lock and then the food and then I owe them. That’s normal. That’s fine. I—I can work with that. I can use that. I can… That’s it. That has to be it. No one does nice things for no reason.

No—

“Come on, Kuns! This is my treat!”

“H—Hi Kunsel. I—I found this book and I think it’s a part of the series you like. Would you—like it?”

…Except for you two.

Only you both were this kind for no reason.

“—so, I said, I was hoping for a break, but then he nixed my damn request,” Ostium grumbled out and glared at Nyx. “Someone just had to be a smartass in the last briefing.”

“He’s a dick,” Nyx casually replied, taking a bite out of his own fruitless pancakes. “I know where his head is at, but I don’t have to agree with it.”

“And you just take the rest of us down with you,” Pelna droned out.

“Relax, even he can’t do complete group punishments for long.”

He could. Anyone that high up would be able to make all his subordinates’ lives miserable for however long he wanted to.

…Maybe he was being used as an example. If Nyx was willing to openly criticize his superior, then they’d have to find a way to make an example out of him.

In Shinra, he’d be used than killed for such comments. Used to prove a point, then unceremoniously killed.

But…

…

…

…A lock and pancakes…

…

The lock was a gift. It was everything.

The pancakes…

…Maybe. That…

…

…

…

“Wait up! If we wait a bit, then we can just go into the back way and get the good stuff.”

“How do you always get them to give you the nice stuff.”

“Oh, come on, Kunsel. They’re super nice when you’re nice back! Just gotta smile!”

“…Okay, but seriously, do you do chores or something…?”

“You’re such a dork.”

…They were nice because you were kind.

You were the sun.

And he wasn’t.

Kunsel could play the part. Act however he needed to, but he wasn’t…

He wasn’t Zack.

He could never be him.

Even though peaches were his favorite, the pancakes tasted flavorless. He mechanically ate them, bite after bite. The conversation droned around him and he interjected when he needed to until Altius and Beatrix shuffled over.

Ostium grinned.

“So, ho—”

“If you yell, I will stab you,” Beatrix gritted out. Light laughter trickled around the table. Kunsel smiled slightly, watching her hold the knife up to Ostium’s face.

“Come on, no one made you do—however many shots you had at Crowe’s place,” Nyx said, gently removing the knife from her hand. “If you let him live, I’ll make sure people tip double next week.”

Beatrix’s hand twitched and she laid down the table, grumbling about book prices and loans. The conversation continued smoothly after that with Kunsel seamlessly filling the role of asking obvious questions or making short, sharp comments. Nyx’s eyes were rarely off of him. Pelna kept trying to quietly watch him as well. He continued to eat and pretended to ignore them. If this was a test, then he’d pass.

He’d accept the gift and wait for the blows.

***

“You owe me.”

Kunsel’s eyes flickered up to the fully recovered Altius.

“…For what?”

It was a genuine question. He always made certain to quickly repay his debts, so there shouldn’t be anything he owed her.

“My TV money.”

“I believe that’s with Pelna—”

“Oh, it is,” Altius said, cutting him off. She took a sip of water and glanced around the mostly deserted reading room that lacked anything useful. “However, I do remember you talking to him before the match. And then he won. I’ve beaten him for seven years straight and then you have one conversation, and he wins.”

“…I think—”

“Nope. You did something. You owe me and I want to collect, Kunelda.”

“…That’s not my name,” Kunsel said slowly, trying to sort through this. Pelna had a higher rank than Alitus, so helping him should have been fine. Altius had no major connections with those in the upper ranks of the Crownsguard or Kingsglaives. Yes, she was close friends with Furia and Thatcher…

…

…Did she have leverage on the Professor? Could she cause the investigation to slow?

“Tit for tat—”

What? How?
“—So, let’s get going. You are going to help me make back the money. I’ve got a gig.”

Kunsel raised an eyebrow, but nodded. Altius smirked slightly and nodded at him to follow. He did without question, because this was… unexpected. From all of the data he collected, he knew that Altius didn’t have any underground connections. So, this most likely would be a test on if he’d report any strange incidences. A way of making him affirm that he was a good little toy that knew the new accessories could be taken away at a moment’s notice.

Everyone did that.

The drill sergeants. The instructors. The Turks.

…

…

…

“Dude, I’m so tired. I want to go back to Midgar.”

“I thought you like the outdoors.”

“This is not camping.”

“We’re in a tent.”

“…That is… That is sad. Just sad.”

“Fuck off—Get off!”

“No! You made me sad, so now you have to fix it!”

“I’m being crushed.”

“I’m hugging you. It’s important.”

“Whatever. I want to sleep.”

“Did you get dinner? I didn’t see you with everyone else.”

“I was talking to the Commander.”

“Oh, Angeal? Awesome! You probably got better food than the rest of us.”

“Yeah…”

…

…

“…Zack?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve got a mission tomorrow. I’ll be back in a couple of day—And you’re crushing me.”

“Hugging! I need to charge up! No one else lets me hug them like this.”

This was fine. He could handle whatever Altius had planned—

“Come on! We’re on the fourth floor. I need to talk to Layla, so you can go ahead.”

Kunsel nodded and walked over to the elevator. He felt slightly dizzy as he went up, and confused. There were no private room on the fourth floor. Only classrooms and large open meeting spaces. Glass walls that were both thin enough to hear everything, but thick enough to cause airflow problems. What was—

“Ah, Kunsel! Right on time! Your supplies is on the table.”

“Hello, Elshett.” Kunsel politely smiled and looked around as dozens of kids were being shepherded by staff members and volunteers in brightly colored shirts. There were seven tables set up with different… art supplies. He glanced at Monica and surveyed the room again.

“…Crowe didn’t explain a thing, did she?”

“She said I owed her a favor.”

Elshett shook her head and got up from the table, picking up a green shirt that rivaled the neon signs at Wal Market.

“We’re the hired help for the kid’s summer camp. Today is an art class. While Crowe can help with painting, she doesn’t know how to draw. Pelna suggested we talk to you.” The older Crownsguard smiled and held out the shirt. “Bathrooms are just down the hall. I really appreciate you doing this.”

I never said yes.

“Of course.”

There were even more children when he got back. Altius was chatting animatedly with Elshett. She grinned as he walked over.

“So, Monica gave you the run. All you need to do is teach the kids how to draw the general shape of a boat on some water and then I’ll teach them how to fill in with colors. Simple!”

It could be. There were hundreds of ways to draw boats and drilling down to the basic shape wouldn’t be hard.

“How long until we start?”

“You’ve got twenty minutes give or take a bit, depending on how long it takes to get name tags on the kids. Then, we’re here until about six.”

Kunsel walked over to the table and started to sketch.

The boat didn’t need to be that big or fancy. A lot could be captured in triangles and half circles. Or ellipses, if he was being technical. It didn’t need to have a lot of details. Like an old, well-worn hull, marred with barnacles. Like triple braided rope. Like fishing nets that looked like spiderwebs but were strong as steel. Like the sail that hadn’t been replaced in over ten years; with dozens of rips and tears neatly sewed closed. Small drawings on the sides in charcoal that were washed away each time his grandfather took the boat out. He wasn’t supposed to draw on it, but his grandfather never yell at him or told him stop. It was better than his grandmother’s kitchen walls or his bedroom walls; though he knew there were three small stick figures hidden away behind the trunk in his room.

Maybe he could do the drawing with a dock, so Altius could show how shading affecting the depth of a color, instead of it being just one? Then, maybe storm clouds too—

…

…

…What am I doing? This—This isn’t important. Just kids. Jus—this isn’t…

…

…

“Okay, everyone! Let’s calm down!” Kunsel glanced up to the main library staff who was calming the horde of children. “Everyone, say hello to our special guest teachers: Ms. Monica, Ms. Crowe, and Mister Kunsel! They’re going to help us out today. Be good and listen, okay?”

He set out the paper and watched the library staff divide up the children into smaller groups.

Nine were placed at his table.

“Hi, I’m Kunsel! No need to call me ‘mister,’ I’m not that old,” he said with a big smile as the kids laughed a bit. “I’m going to show you how to draw a sailboat and then Ms. Crowe will show you how to color it in! Can you raise your hand if you’ve drawn before?”

All but one of the kid’s hands shot up.

“Awesome! I’m going to show you how you can use a few shapes to make the boat and the dock, and then we’ll add in waves. Any questions?”

The kids shook their heads. Kunsel smiled and explained each step as he drew on his own paper. After he finished the example, they all quickly started to draw. All, except the kid who hadn’t raised her hand.

He knelt next to her and smiled gently.

“Hi. What’s your name?”

“…Lu.”

“That’s pretty. Have you ever tried to draw before, Lu?” he softly asked. The girl shook her head and stared at the pencil. “Do you want to try?”

The girl shrugged, before sinking back in her chair.

“Aw, not even a little try? Little one?” He asked, barely holding his fingers apart. She smiled slightly, but frowned again at the pencil. “…Do you want to try and hold it?”

She shook her head. Kunsel frowned and watched as her clenched hands shook.

“…How old are you, Lu?”

“Seven,” the girl replied, holding up her hands. The one with all five fingers was still, but the one with three closed fingers shook slightly and wasn’t fully closed.

“Ah, then you’re the perfect age to learn my secret drawing technique!”

She leaned in close as Kunsel grabbed a slab of charcoal. He rubbed some on his finger and held his hand open and started to draw.

“See? I like doing this, because when you add the color, it’ll look like a stained-glass window.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

“Can we do that Mister Kunsel?”

“Can we?”

Lu and him looked over to see all the kids staring at him. He looked at Lu and smiled.

“What do you think? Want to show them the secret?”

Lu nodded enthusiastically and jumped up to show the other kids. Kunsel smiled slightly as she perfectly drew a little boat.

And sitting at the table, let him see Altius recording him—

She walked plainly into his line of sight with a perfect shit-eating grin.

“Okay, everyone! We’ll switch tables in five minutes!”

And so, it continued for the next four hours. Kunsel would recite the instructions and draw an example, now using his finger instead of the pencil, and the kids would react like they were hearing and seeing it for the first time. Maybe they were, if they weren’t paying attention.

When the class ended, Kunsel stretched and watched as parents, older siblings, aunts, uncles, and other guardians collected the children. Lu looked back and waved at him with a bright smile. He smiled and returned it, before collecting the leftover drawing paper, pencils, and charcoal pads.

“…I had no idea you’d be so good with the kids,” Altius commented, walking over. “I really didn’t think you’d have it in you.”

“Is that an insult?”

“Mild one,” Altius replied, with a far fonder smile than she’d ever given him. He didn’t know if he liked it or not. “…Want some food? My treat.”

“Doesn’t that negate the purpose of coming here? I owed you money,” Kunsel pointed out, watching Elshett talk with the lead library staff member—Livia Pedia.

“…Is the pedantic smartassness a thing in your world or is this just you?”

“You can decide.”

The words fell from his mouth before he could stop them. Altius stared at him before laughing. He could hear Elshett stifling a laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” she replied, with her smug grin that didn’t quite match the light in her eyes, “I can figure that one out.”

She stretched and looked over to Elshett.

“You coming too?”

“Only if you’re paying,” the Crownsguard replied. Altius grumbled about her TV before going to collect her things. “…And your dessert is on me, Kunsel.”

“Um, that’s—”

“Not up for debate.”

***

“I had no idea that you were so good with kids.” Kunsel dropped the apartment key by the door and glared at Nyx. “Aw, poor pretty boy. How many—”

“Eleventh person in fifteen minutes.”

Nyx cackled and walked over to the bar as Kunsel put away his leftovers. He’d finish them later tonight when no one was watching.

…Or try to.

“Come on, you can’t blame us. We’ve never seen you act like this. It was… It was like you were made of sunshine when talking to the kiddos.”

He wanted to scream. Or cry. Or do both.

…Because Zack was sunshine. Zack didn’t lie or fake emotions; he embodied each one so fucking fully it made you believe everything about him. There couldn’t be doubt in one so open and honest.

Which is why you were supposed to keep him safe. Guard him from everyone and everything. Didn’t matter that he was stronger and braver. He had vulnerable spots. A person that good and kind and genuine always did. I—I was his shield. I was always supposed to be the shield.

For him and Cloud.

“…Kunsel?”

Every hair stood up on end at Nyx’s quiet call.

“Did I say something wrong?”

…

…

…

“…No,” he said quietly, filling a glass with water to buy some time. And, Nyx’s words weren’t wrong.

And that made everything worse.

“Okay.”

The silence was suffocating, but Kunsel wasn’t going to break it.

“…Want to watch mindless TV?”

Kunsel turned around and…

…

…

…

He nodded. Nyx smiled softly and nodded at him to come over. They sat in their usual spots on the couch.

“So, today’s selections are Altissian soap operas, old game show reruns, and a terrible kid’s show out of Tenebrae. What’s your pick?”

“…Is the soap ‘From the Dark of the Night?’”

“You know it?”

He glanced up at Nyx’s wild look of confusion.

“Salvus and Lux talk about it a lot.”

“Of course, those weirdos would,” Nyx muttered, flipping over to the correct channel.

Kunsel curled up his legs and let his head fall onto Nyx’s shoulder as the opening theme played. Nyx’s arm slowly moved down to wrap around his shoulder. He squeezed it but didn’t say anything.

Kunsel swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, while the show started.

Nyx’s quiet commentary on the insanity of the show started after two minutes. Kunsel kept his eyes shut and just felt warm.

Chapter Text

“Kuns! Kuns, Kuns, Kuns!”

It was way too early for this.

“I know you’re awake. Come on!”

Absolutely not.

“Come on!”

Nope.

“I guess I’ll just have to give Cloud his gift al—Oof!”

Kunsel sat up and pinned Zack to the bed with a glare. Of course, his friend just laughed at him.

“Knew that would do it.”

“We agreed next week,” Kunsel grumbled, letting go of Zack. He acted like a ragdoll as the other dragged him around the room.

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind,” Zack said a little too distractedly.

“…Do I need to ‘speak’ with anyone?” Kunsel asked lightly, already going through the list of usual suspects.

“Oh, no. We need to wait at least another two months before anything like that or Seph will have to lecture me. I mean, it’s less a lecture and more of scheduled social time with snacks, but still, appearances and nonsense.”

He grinned wolfishly and Kunsel quietly laughed. The idea of the General reprimanding Zack was hilarious, because no one could really reprimand him. Zack had the uncanny ability to make people like him. From drill sergeants to the Turks to select member of the BoD to the cooks and secretaries, Zack befriended everyone. The only who could truly scold Zack—make him cry—

…

…

…He wasn’t here anymore.

He’d never be back.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

There would also be bastards who’d need to be reassigned.

Or killed.

“So, where are we meeting Clo—”

Zack was gone.

“…Zack?”

Kunsel listened, but couldn’t hear him in the hall. Only Meyers and Garreth. He finished getting ready and was in the hall. They were staring at him.

“Hey, where’s Zack? He left without saying anything."

Meyers and Garreth exchanged looks. His stomach dropped.

“…Is something wrong?”

“Kunsel,” Meyers spoke softly. Too softly. Gently. They were SOLDIER. They weren’t gentle. “Zack’s dead.”

“That’s not funny. He was in my room. We’re going to meet up with Cloud.”

Zack wasn’t dead.

Zack couldn’t be dead.

Kunsel had to be dead first. He was supposed to be dead first.

He was his shadow. His second. His barrier.

No one could touch Zack as long as he was alive. That’s what he trained for. Was beaten, broken, molded, forged, and designed for. He was SOLDIER. He had Turk training. He was a perfect weapon to keep Zack and Cloud safe.

“Kunsel, we’re not lying. He—he’s dead.”

“No, he’s not!”

Kunsel ran.

He had to find Zack.

Because Zack was okay.

He wasn’t hurt.

He wasn’t dead.

He wasn’t—

Screaming.

Shrieking.

Zack. Cloud.

He ran.

They were screaming—

Bleeding. Breaking. Hurting. Hurt. Hurt hurt hurt hurt hurthurthurthurthurthurthurthurthurthurt

Find them.

Findthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthemfindthem

Find them.

They were there. Behind the door.

Get to the door.

Run.

Run.

He wasn’t moving. He was sprinting, but the door was still at the end of the hall. Why couldn’t—why couldn’t he reach it--?

There was a hall. He could—would that be the better choice? He wasn’t moving. Was the hall better? Would it—

“CLOUD!”

He tore down the hall. Zack screaming. Cloud in danger.

Helphelphelphelphelphelpfindthemthemfindsavehelpstopstop—

The door was gone.

He could hear them.

The door was gone.

The door was—

“Zack! Cloud!”

The door was gone. The door was gone. Thedoor was gone. The doorwasgone. Thedoorwasgone.Thedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgonethedoorwasgone

“Damn. What a bad choice, sweetheart.”

Reno.

…The hall was gone.

He was in The Room.

“Ya know, yer lucky they like ya so much,” Reno whispered, in his ear. Kunsel couldn’t move.

His eyes were on the gun on the table.

The screaming hadn’t stopped.

“…Ya know this choice, right? It’ll be less painful than the knives and ya—how many times did ya cover for Fair?”

Fifty-seven.

“…It won’t stop,” he whispered, walking to the table.

“Of course not,” Reno said softly, kissing his cheek. “But, you failed.”

Kunsel’s eyes flew open.

His room.

He was in his room at the apartment.

He gently reached up to touch his temple.

It was fine.

He was fine.

…He was fine, while they were dying. No, not dying. Dying would bet—

…

…

…

Kunsel broke his back molar. The pain radiated out all over his face and neck, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not when—not when he thought such a horrible thought.

…

…Death had an ending. Death meant pain stopped. Everything stopped.

But… Zack dead?

Cloud dead?

The two kindest, sweetest, most generous, and loving people he’d ever encountered? The two people who accepted him without question or concern? The two who remembered the smallest details and never once bartered with him? Who gave without thought and reciprocated with overwhelming joy and trust?

How could he—

…There was something wrong with him.

There was something horribly, horribly wrong with him.

***

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nyx was seething. Kunsel raised an eyebrow and continued to pack his gear. “You’re going. You—fuck, let me talk to Drautos. This is—”

“I haven’t been on a proper mission in a couple of weeks—”

“You were sick—”

“And I am fine.” Kunsel turned toward Nyx and fought to keep his expression neutral. “I was ill, but now am perfectly functioning. This mission is hardly dangerous; it is more intel gathering than anything. There is no reason to worry.”

The older one stared at him. He bit the inside of his lip and looked like couldn’t figure out what to say. Or yell.

Kunsel continued to pack, letting the other simmer. He wasn’t overly thrilled with the mission—while intel gathering was important, this one wasn’t getting him closer to the source of information he wanted—but it was still a mission. A good chance for him to reset. Return the SOLDIER form he spent years crafting.

“You’re going no-contact.”

That’s a bonus.

“A majority of intel missions are radio-silence—”

“That’s not ‘no-contact.’” Kunsel didn’t pause, but took note of the different tone coloring Nyx’s voice. “You’re going to be no-contact for three days, Kunsel.”

“I have handled worse missions.” He carefully packed a few EMPs hidden in his socks. All standard weaponry would be checked out at the armory before he boarded the ship.

And he had plenty non-standard weaponry at the Hunter's HQ.

“I will be fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

“I worry about you all the fucking time, kid.”

Kunsel froze. Nyx looked more serious than he’d ever seen. Serious… and sincere.

Too sincere.

He—

He didn’t—want—need—

“This is why everyone calls you a ‘Mama coeurl.”

That did it.

The spell broke Nyx with rolling his eyes and grumbling about Pelna and Ostium. Kunsel smiled slightly and returned to his bag. The other shuffled behind him, keeping otherwise quiet as Kunsel finished packing the remainder of his belongings. He swung the bag over his shoulder and turned to see Nyx staring at his desk.

“…I have been trained for missions like these. For every variety of mission,” Kunsel tried to pacify his guard-turned-roommate with a smile. Nyx glanced at him, but didn’t say anything.

“I will be fine.”

I’m always fine.

***

The Hunter’s HQ was quieter than normal, with so many different missions happening right now, the main office was run by a skeleton crew.

Of course, this worked out for him, as Grey was gone.

Kunsel had slipped away from the others after dinner and made his way to the Hunter’s room.

It was a small space—far smaller than what someone of his stature and rank would typically have.

…In Shinra his suite would’ve been large and luxurious. It would have taken an entire floor.

All of Shinra’s board of directors had the most opulent living quarters—save for Tuesti, who kept his old apartment and spent most of his time there—that they didn’t have to pay for.

…Are you still there? Or did they finally kill you for being somewhat of a decent person.

Kunsel shook his head and started to make his way through the room. As per usual, the desk drawers and compartments didn’t have locks on them and everything in the room was neatly organized. Truly, it was like these people wanted to get robbed. He felt around the bed, but it lacked the compartment that Simon created on his.

However, there was a loose floorboard.

Kunsel pulled out a small box filled with the other half of the correspondences. He smiled slightly as he read through them. Simon’s writing matched his personality in a way that Gray’s differed. He was open in his thoughts and feelings… save for hiding the letters in the first place.

…He couldn’t fault him for hiding them. Even if it was safe for them to have this relationship, Kunsel understood wanting to keep certain parts of your life quiet. Hidden. Protected.

He spent so many years quietly gathering Junon information. Hiding it away in safehouses until he could be certain that it could be returned without causing the remaining villagers harm or concern.

…He only gave them a few items. There were so many more hidden away. So many more that he hadn’t found.

Books.

Paintings.

Records.

…

…Legal documents.

Treaties.

Deeds.

Land ownership.

He put the letters back, ignoring the twinge of disappointment mingled with…

There wasn’t a code, which would have made his life easier, but knowing that Simon wasn’t a part of the moles…

…

He wasn’t relieved. He wasn’t close enough with the other to warrant such a response.

He wasn’t content. Having the knowledge was good, but he’d find it one way or another, with his skill set. Being content led to a degradation of skills.

He wasn’t happy. He knew what happiness was--

"Kunsel! We got a new movie to watch and Cloud's making us a treat from Nibel! It's his Ma's recipe and everything!! Hurry up!"

"Zack, it'll take around an hour--"

"Nope, he needs hurry up! This way, we get bites before it bakes!"

"...What?"

"Do you not taste the batter before baking?"

--and this wasn’t it.

…

…

…Was it…just good? Or some kind of nameless, neutral emotion?

He shook his head and turned to the meticulously stacked notes of the Hunter’s missions. These gave him more information than the letters. Different campaign details; information on specific Hunter’s specialties and skills; notes—encoding and decoded—from their now extended intel network; and notes on intel from Insomnia.

There wasn’t anything particularly interesting, save for…

Hm. This type of formation indicates… someone high ranking visiting.

That he could use. Everything else either matched his own intel or was common knowledge already shared. There wasn’t false information being pushed to the Hunters or by them to Insomnia.

…

…

…Why aren’t the Moles involved?

The Hunters weren’t formally a part of the Insomnia miliary, but they worked more closely with them than any other organization. The Hunters were excellent guerrilla soldiers. Having lived their whole lives in the areas they currently defend, they have intimate knowledge that few soldiers or spies could achieve. But, they were still civilians. This gave them a layer of protection; mistakes could be made and there wouldn’t be any suspicion. They also could go places that the Glaives couldn’t.

…So why in the hell wasn’t there a presence in their notes?

Gray oversaw most of the intel and Auburnbrie treated him like his second-in-command. Kunsel had spent the last seven months pouring over the Hunter’s notes whenever his missions sent him by the HQ or he partnered with them in the field; but the codes used by Vis and Bellum weren’t here. There was nothing to suggest that they were using the Hunter’s intel to influence the Glaive’s activities.

…It was all internal.

…

…

…But that didn’t. Make. Sense.

Kunsel was well aware of Insomnia’s faults with security and overall structure. They didn’t understand how to fully use people to accomplish their goals. They were… They cared about keeping numbers down in a way that went beyond maintaining minimum numbers and appeasing public opinion.

That’s never made sense to me. Shinra was fighting a war. People die. That’s the point; people can talk about eliminating major targets and cutting of weapons, but what really counts in a war is breaking the other’s country’s will to fight. Thousands of casualties will generally do it. Sure, the bodies are horrible to look at, but is starving them better? Is it more humane because those bodies are technically alive?

…They kept tabs on the civilians. They provided aid to them; beyond the normal amount. Galahd was the perfect example. Instead of leaving the bombed out and destroyed island, they still provided some aid—not enough according to Nyx, Pelna, Ostium, and all the others who were from there, but it was still far better than anything Kunsel had seen from Shinra. They truly…

…

…

It didn’t…

…

…

…

“Kunsel?”

Lux.

How—

…He wasn’t in Gray’s room anymore. He wasn’t—

“Yes, Lux?” he asked with a polite smile. The other stared at him before gesturing to follow. Kunsel followed them down the hall to the kitchens. He stood silently as Lux started to grab ingredients.

“I’m not as good as my grandma, but it’ll be edible, I promise.”

“I believe you,” he calmly replied, taking a seat at one of the islands. He watched them chop up the meat and make some kind of sauce. “…Did she teach you how to make this?”

“No… Well, the recipes are hers, but I grew up in Lestallum. Grandma visited us when she could, but I really didn’t get to know her that well until I was in high school and transferred to Insomnia.”

“…You lived in Insomnia before becoming a Glaive?”

Of course, Kunsel knew this. But, it would be rude to not ask questions.

“Yeah, I’ve been in the city for about… ten years or so?” Lux said, cocking their head slightly as they tried to recall the date. “Yeah, because high school and then college… or, well, three years of college. I finished up the coursework about two years after joining the Glaives.”

“It is good they let you finish.”

“It is,” Lux said and then smiled at him. “Not gonna ask the obvious?”

There are seventeen obvious questions.

“The obvious?” Kunsel slightly cocked his head. Lux smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"You're really gonna be cute, when we all know you're the most perceptive person and damn near clairvoyant?"

"Can you really call me clairvoyant when Pelna and Altius are predictable?" Kunsel deadpanned and Lux laughed. It died to chuckles before they frowned slightly. They chopped up the vegetables and put the meat in a heated pan before looking up.

“'Why am I with the Glaives and not the Crownsguards?'”

That… was not a question Kunsel had.

“I don’t think it matters.”

“Really?” Lux asked, an pondering expression appeared on their face. “Not interested?”

“I didn’t say that I wasn’t interested, just that I didn’t really think it mattered. Not when the choice was made for you.”

Fuck.

Lux stared at him, before they turned over each piece of meat in the pan. They then put the vegetables in another and added the sauce to the meat. 

“…Why do you say ‘the choice was made for me?’” They asked softly, withe piercing eyes. 

“Because you weren’t born here. It doesn’t matter how direct your family is, if you aren’t born here, you’re not a Crown Citizen. You can’t be a part of the Crownsguard. You and Salvus may have the largest argument, but why bother when no one else will respect the logic or reasons? Even if you had successfully argued your case, then you would still have several problems with the Insomnia’s innate xenophobia. You’d probably never reach the respect you have now. So, no, I’m not curious about it, because you didn’t have a real choice. What’s better is what you did with the option available.”

Fuck.

He hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant to say any of that.

But once started, the words poured out of him. He couldn’t stop. He had to say it.

It—he knew it. Lived it. Survived it. He spent years learning how to gain some control while maintaining an appearance of compliance.

It—it was good for him to get to know Lux. Strategic.

This was information gathering.

Intel.

Work.

This--

...It wasn't just personal.

Nothing could ever be solely personal. Not again. Not if it wasn't with them.

His stomach churned and he looked down at the island.

…He felt sick—

A bowl of food was placed in front of him. He glanced over as Lux took a seat next to him. The other was smiling. A true smile that filled their face and made their eyes shine.

“I think you’re the first person I’ve met to actually articulate what I’ve felt. I—I’ve never been able to say it like you have. But I’ve felt it. There was no option for me.”

They started to eat and Kunsel followed suite. It was quiet until they made their way back to their rooms. Kunsel started to think over everything he’d need to do for his scouting mission tomorrow, when Lux gently grabbed his wrist.

“…Thank you for everything you said,” Lux said quietly. They looked like they wanted to say more.

They didn’t. Instead, Lux reached out and Kunsel folded an arm across his chest as they pulled him into a hug. Their chin rested on the top of his own and their hand gripped his waist. They pulled back after a minute and wished him luck on the mission before leaving him alone. 

Kunsel hit the floor when he closed his door. Dozens of emotions and thoughts pulled at his mind while his heart tried to break his ribs. He pulled his knees closer and tried to thin through the onslaught on pain spreading over his back and pulsing across his sternum.

He thought through each of the exercises the Turks taught him to stay calm when torturing. When betraying. When being tortured.

…

…

…

…Cold settled over him as the pain continued.

They weren’t working.

Nothing was working.

Like a wound not hea—

…

…

…

…

No.

No.

It’s not that.

It’s not.

I'm not a First.

I am fine.

It can't be that.

Please.

Chapter Text

The best part about a no-contact mission? Especially when he requested a two-day extension that would certainly piss off Nyx—

What? No. No, that doesn’t matter.

Kunsel shook his head as he watched Tummelt pace near his tent. He’d looked livid all day as news of failed or intercepted campaigns bogged down their communication lines. It was rather amusing, watching him try to understand how everything was unraveling.

Watching the camp for two days had been far more productive than expected. The men weren’t secretive about their plans and important documents were left in obvious places. Kunsel now knew the intimate details of the three month’s of the campaign. He’d be able to plant small details throughout his network to ensure the information made it back to the Hunters and to Insomnian spies. He would need to volunteer for four specific missions to ensure the Lucian’s success; he knew their own strategies well enough to know that even if he handed them the playbook, they’d lose.

And, of course, he could cause immediate havoc. While he did enjoy creating long plans, he knew the importance of surprise. And he needed Tummelt angry.

Kunsel leaned back more against the tree and smiled softly as the Brigadier General broke a table that he’d placed near the tent a few hours ago.

…He missed this.

Watching others scramble. Panic. Try to escape the spider’s web he’d woven around them; with each struggle they’d lock further into place until he decided to off them a deal or kill them off. While most everything he did was under the Turks’ or the Commanders’ orders—and occasionally the General’—there were numerous times he acted on his own. It was the only way to keep Zack and Cloud safe. To create a barrier around Aerith. To try and understand the General.

This was his role.

This was what he was good for. Not that the Glaives or the Crownsguards had any idea.

After all, his ‘priority mission’ was fucking grunt work. Checking an intel stream that he set up a few months ago. Of fucking course, it was working well and was to be trusted.

…He should have been sent here.

…The Glaives or the Hunters or even the fucking Crownsguards should have known that Tummelt was in the area.

Drautos should have known.

The airship.

Assisting the Hunters.

Coordination with the guerilla groups and mercenaries.

More and more, Drautos’s choices didn’t make sense. Even if he was a part of the Moles, then this would be doubly suspicious as he should be trying to blend in even more. To do what it took to get close and then maintain proximity to those in charge. Not wanting to take an enemy ship and study their engineering and not wanting to get intel from high-ranking officials was embarrassing leadership.

However, from what Kunsel uncovered, this was how Drautos had been like since for the last thirty years.

…Even if the King personally saved him and gave him a place in Insomnia, he should be aware of this gross incompetence.

…Or maybe it didn’t register as incompetence. Based on the many late night drinking sessions Kunsel listened in on…

These idiots don’t have any idea. Truly, the fact that the Lucian kingdom hadn’t been destroyed was a miracle.

In a way, his AWOL behavior was the only sane choice for all. And results weighed more than the steps taken.

That was a lesson Shinra didn’t need to teach him; the streets of Midgar left proof that he received a thorough hands-on experience.

A small radio broke and Kunsel pulled out his burner phone.

Now, it was time to meet the illusive Gralean.

“What?” Tummelt snapped, not even looking at the number.

“…Hello, Brigadier General.”

Tummelt froze. Kunsel smiled.

“…Who is this?” the other growled out, looking around.

Why are they all idiots?

“Someone who’d like to make a deal,” Kunsel smoothly replied.

“You think you’re the first to make a call like this?” Tummelt continued to growl… while pulling out a laptop.

…Is he going to trace the call?

Kunsel was mildly impressed. Too bad for the other, he had already made the call untraceable.

“I would hope not. Granted, most of the ones to approach you had been terribly disguised spies or poorly organized mercenaries. I am neither.”

That caused Tummelt to pause.

“The Lucians are miserable fools,” Tummelt said, working on the computer. “And most mercenary companies are poorly run. If you wanted to achieve something with such a simple, predictable sentence, then you’re mistaken.”

“My apologies, General, I think you misunderstand my motives,” Kunsel replied softly, “I am not acting on behalf of the Lucian interests.”

“Really?” Tummelt scoffed, glowering at the screen. Clearly, he couldn’t find him.

“Truly, I am not here to gain knowledge in their favor. I reach out to you for purely selfish intentions.”

“And what intentions would those be?”

“I need Lucian resources. Resources currently devoted to the war.”

Tummelt pulled back and stared at the phone. His eyes narrowed. He reached for a notebook but stopped. Kunsel frowned slightly as the other appeared to be wrestling with a deep thought.

“…And how can I assist you in securing resources?" the other finally asked.

“Help me end the war.”

Tummelt laughed.

Truly, wholly, laughed. A few men stared at him, but he waved them off. The only one to not move on was his Second.

“You’re funny, stranger, I’ll give you that,” Tummelt said, chuckles still pouring out in between the words. “Ending this war? The end of the war will see Insomnia in smoking ruins. Any resources you covet will be obliterated in the raining hellfire.”

Noted.

The capital was going to be bombed.

Thankfully, they would have their own functioning airships by the end of next month.

“And any Lucian would say that Gralea would have to suffer the same fate. I do not mean to insult, but I had assumed a man of your statue and power would understand that wars only truly end in a room with all true powers around a table.”

Tummelt was silent. Kunsel waited another forty seconds. He opened his mouth—

“There won’t be a room.” Kunsel was silent and carefully watched Tummelt. He was no longer looking at the computer, but leaning against the table. “There won’t be a room, because all will be lined up in full daylight and executed in front of the masses if they don’t comply in a timely manner.

This… This was not how the conversation was supposed to go.

Tummelt was supposed to be angry.

Slip up.

…

…

“Of course. It’s an effective method. And I imagine the moles you have in the Kingsglaives will help with that selection.”

He hung up and watched Tummelt swear violently.

While there was merit in waiting for the enemy to make a fatal mistake, there was nothing wrong with pushing them in the right direction. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but he still had trump cards to play.

The Second—Antilla—finally walked over after Tummelt slammed his phone down.

“…Who was that?”

“Unknown person. Someone working for the Lucians.” Tummelt took in a breath and… steadied himself. “He was baiting me. An old trick. I will not fall for it.”

“Should we leave?”

“No. I couldn’t get a trace on the signal, but… Increase the communication watches, but don’t do anything yet. Not until the threat is confirmed.”

…

…

…This fucker.

Kunsel leaned back on the branch and watched as the other continued on with his evening routine as he had for the last two days. No change in behavior. Nothing.

He was impressed. It was the first display of proper competence. Of course, it was a baiting sentence; Kunsel wanted to draw out a reaction. To get him to call Glauca or reach out his double spy. To do something. For Tummelt to do just… ignore it was… competent.

The Lucians had spies.

The Graleans had spies.

Saying ‘mole’ truly didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of the plans. And him saying ‘you’—that could be interpreted as Niflheim as a whole. Not just Tummelt.

This was a smart way to handle Kunsel’s threat.

…

…

…He didn’t know if he was more impressed or annoyed.

***

Tummelt actually looked at the number when Kunsel called the next evening. He frowned an--

Oh.

Kunsel smiled as Tummelt recorded the call. Even Highwind never tried to that--though, he did have significant blackmail on her. 

Tummelt remained silent.

“…It’s rude to answer without saying something,” Kunsel boredly said, enjoyed the eyeroll from the other.

“Should a traitor speak of manners?”

“I’m no traitor,” Kunsel spoke truthfully. He had been forced into working for the Glaives and while he… he didn’t dislike them, it didn’t mean he was willing to show them loyalty. Ending the war was his only way to fully use the Kingdom’s resources. It was simple.

Because he had to get back.

There was no other alternative.

“You offered to assistance to the Lucians’s enemies.”

“…Why assume I am working with them?” Kunsel asked, hoping to get the real answer either verbally or through physical cues. Tummelt looked thoroughly annoyed as the trace must have failed. He mouthed a few Gralean swears.

“You’re using their resources,” he growled out. “If you weren’t working with them, then you could easily switch to something from Altissia or Tenebrae.”

“Not Niflheim’s?” he lightly goaded.

“You’d be dead before you could touch a single coin.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Kunsel lightly said. “After all, I believe this call is costing you far more than a coin.”

Tummelt looked like he wanted to break the phone.

“Much of the world uses resources from the Lucians,” Kunsel continued. He watched the other roll their eye. A small smile came onto his face. It felt like he was talking to Shotgun.

“I don’t have time for liars.”

“Being on someone’s payroll doesn’t mean I am loyal.”

That caused Tummelt to pause and look at the phone. He narrowed his eyes before speaking.

“…You sound like you dislike them.”

“As you said, they’re fools,” Kunsel smoothly replied. “And while they’re cute to indulge, their incompetence hinders my work.”

“…And what would that be?” Tummelt settled into a chair. “You don’t state who you are or in what way you’re connected to them. You haven’t said what you want with their resources either.”

“Does it matter?”

“Would you make a bargain on whisps of information."

"It's unpleasant, but sometimes necessary to achieve a goal," Kunsel honestly replied. There were dozens of times he had to make calls on half-baked information, and, occasionally, it didn't work in his favor. But that lessened the more he learned how fragile people were. Truly, most were so fucking easy to break.

"You're the one who needs to 'achieve a goal,' not I. If you want to barter, then bring me something useful."

The call ended.

Tummelt had hung up on him. Kunsel laughed silently and grinned. 

This was fun.

Tummelt truly had done a marvelous job of maintaining a specific public appearance that hid his intelligence. His cunning behavior. Kunsel had seen it done numerous ways, but there were usually cracks in the facade. People made mistakes all too often. For the ruse to be so whole…

“I—Stop fighting me! I can hel—”

“You can’t. Kunsel. You. Can’t.”

“I—”

“Are going to get him caged or killed. If you want to help, then fucking leave us!”

“…You don’t even have your face anymore.”

Kunsel took a deep breath and watched the camp slowly grow silent. He slipped down from his perch and walked into Tummelt's camp. He picked up the drive that held the recording. It wouldn't take long for him to erase the recording, leaving only an empty file behind. 

He’d need to watch the men tomorrow to see where they fell. And procuring something 'useful' for Tummelt... Well, he had two more days to come up with something. And if not, then he'd move on to another target. 

An agreement with Tummelt would make his plans easier, but it was negotiable.

Returning to Insomnia without usable intel on the moles was not.

***

The next day, the camp operated normally. Calls and updates being processed. Missions reorganized. Scout reports deciphered and dispersed. Weapons being cleaned. Hundreds of pieces of gossip passing between the soldiers. Orders and directions being given and fulfilled.

Including orders about an attack taking place tonight on a small encampment of Glaives and Hunters. Lux would be there along with Vernon-Millers. And Vis.

Kunsel adjusted one of the bugs before disappearing into the trees. He moved closer to Tummelt’s tent and listened, while pulling up a few of his private feeds.

Because the camp wasn’t supposed to be there.

It wasn’t mentioned in any of the notes from the Hunters or the Glaives he regularly sourced intel from. It wasn’t in any Crownsguard information either. Why was it here? Tummelt’s camp wasn’t known to the Glaives or Hunters. Only two of the mercenary groups knew about it, but both were openly destructive in their guerilla tactics that the Lucians never worked with them.

“…Why attack them?” Antilla asked softly. “You said you didn’t want to do anything until the threat was proven. The camp isn’t a major threat, and no one knows we’re here.”

An unfortunately factual statement.

And one of the reasons Kunsel would never just be behind a desk sorting through coded messages; there were too many incompetent people in this world. He needed to verify the information himself.

“This is unrelated to the phone call."

What?

"What do you mean?"

"There's orders from on high."

“Ah. What are your orders?”

Kunsel half listened as his mind raced with thoughts and theories. 'From on high' could mean any of the generals, but based on Tummelt's tone, Kunsel bet it was Glauca. And if Glauca knew about the camp... 

Vis was there. 

Vis and Bellum were hunted by Drautos and Bellum.

...Fuck. 

He quickly retreated to the small shelter he made among a cluster of tree branches and started to comb through his contacts.

…

…

…

Firion would work. He was reliable and was well connected to the Hunters. He quickly typed out a small message, before grabbing a few of his non-standard, collected weapons and made his way to the Glaives and Hunters.

…

…

Why did they make camp? They're not supposed to be in this area. No one is supposed to be here. And there was nothing in any of the unofficial and official communication channels. Why the hell did this happen? What are they trying to do? 

And if Vis was there and providing information...

...

...Was Drautos a mole? Was he trying to get more killed? 

...But, it really wouldn't do much. the Vernon-Millers were pillars in the Glaives, but they were also old and could retire if they wanted to. Lux's connections to Insomnia weren't that strong and there were better ways of getting to the King than through his childhood friend. There were a few other weapons specialists, but no intel agents. And the Hunters there were... average at best.

…Could Drautos be working to eliminate the moles?

He was the only one who could move camps like this. No one else had that authority.

Thoughts and scenarios swirled in Kunsel’s mind as he saw the camp on the horizon. He could see them all moving about in their expected patterns, following their routines. Firion was good, but even he wouldn’t have delivered a coded message so soon. At best, they’d have notice in the next two hours. They’d have three to prep before nightfall and one hour before the attack. They could also bug-out in that time, but Kunsel didn’t think they would. This was a deviation from all official and unofficial plans; something that hadn’t come over his network or been caught on his tapes.

Lux hadn’t mentioned it either. They was supposed to be at the Hunter’s HQ. The Vernon-Millers near Lestallum.

No one was supposed to be here.

...How did the order go out?

…He frowned and moved toward the camp. There weren’t a lot of people there, but the tent set up indicated they were preparing for more people. Kunsel silently made his way through the tents, until he found Vis’s. Kunsel carefully moved into the tent as the other was deeply sleeping on a cot. He opened his bag and pulled out the packet he knew would contain the order slip while keeping an eye on tent opening and listening out for the others. He opened the pack an—

The paper was there. And written on it was the code with a zero followed by a five in the unknown handwriting.

Kunsel placed everything back and made his way back out of the camp to his temporary hideout. He pulled out a dagger and started to sharpen it, watching as the camp started to prepare for attack.

When he did his second search after finding the code in Furia’s room, he hadn’t found the papers in any of the other’s rooms. Most likely, they all had actually had the intelligence—or fear of consequences—to burn the damn things. For Vis to not have burned the paper after receiving it…

…

…

Vis was a mole.

Drautos had Popov spying on him and the older Bellum.

One of the moles was a double agent between Glauca and Tummelt.

Glauca contacted Tummelt to attack this camp.

...

...

...Is Glauca trying to kill Vis? 

Glauca was rumored to be ruthless. Killing a potential traitor was nothing.

But, no.

No, that doesn’t make sense either.

Because if Vis was the target then there wasn’t a reason for the rest to be here. Glauca could have killed him quietly. He was on a mission.

‘Mistakes.’

‘Accidents.’

They could happen in under a second.

...Could it be Drautos trying to kill Vis? Trying to cover up his death in an attack--

But that would only work if he knew the attack was coming.

And that would imply he's a mole.

Another part of Kunsel's brain weakly argued that Drautos could have his own spies inside Niflheim, but...

...He didn't trust it. He knew better than to solely rely on 'gut instincts,' but he also knew better than to ignore them. 

He fully ignored it once an--and he couldn't do that again. Never again.

Kunsel didn’t know if Drautos knew about the codes, but he suspected him and Bellum. Killing both would send too strong of a message to Glauca that he knew about the moles. But, killing one, in a skirmish, was explainable.

Unless Drautos is a mole and is acting on orders.

But Vis would have had to have fucked up. Or be the double agent to Tummelt.

…

…He hated not knowing.

There were too many variables. Too many scenarios. Too—

No.  

Kunsel broke his pinky. He breathed in deeply and set it. It would heal soon.

And he needed to focus.

Drautos, Tummelt, Glauca, Bellum, Popov, and the rest were unimportant at the moment. Right now, he could observe Vis and see what he did. His reactions would be crucial to understanding the depth of the situation.

Kunsel just needed to observe.

He didn’t have to interfere.

He’d learn more if he let the scenario play out.

He just needed to observe.

Kunsel took a breath and settled back. For most missions in Shinra, he was sent ahead to change outcomes or ensure settled ones. Rarely, did he solely observe a fight. Of course, he learned how to watch without caring. Without acting.

It wasn’t the first time he’d watched comrades die.

It was normal.

Kunsel opened his messages. Firion had delivered the news and several other groups were now moving. None would arrive in time, but it appeared that there were others also going to engage in their own small fights.

Kunsel’s stomach churned, but he ignored it.

…He needed information about the moles.

A few random deaths were understandable.

***

The fighting started a few hours later.

Kunsel watched as Vis acted as support, sticking to the shadows and attacking only when the enemy was distracted. It was his usual style with the Bellum brothers. He didn’t look flustered or concerned. His eyes darted around the field, but they weren’t panicked.

He was a hunter, not the hunted.

He’s going to look surprised when he dies.

The fighting continued on fairly predictably, with everyone falling neatly into their roles. There was a simple, but effective rhythm of kukris’s clashing against swords, bullets rattling, orders being barked in a symphony of languages and codes all against the constant hum of Glaives teleporting around the battlefield. When caught in the thick of it, it was harder for him to pull apart all of the lines and study them individually before linking them together again.

…The Glaives would win this fight. Even caught off guard, they were precise in their movements.

He probably wouldn’t even need to inter—

“You’re late!”

No.

“Traffic!”

No.

Pelna was here.

Pelna should not have been here.

Kunsel’s heart jumped as he watched the other join up with Lux. His eyes darted between his messages and the fighting.

There was nothing. No indication that he would be—

“About fucking time!”

…Nyx.

Nyx was here.

Kunsel moved down a branch and stared as the two Galahdians seamlessly fit into the fight. He quickly scanned the Gralean communication channels.

Because if Nyx and Pelna are here, then they could call in reinforcements too.

He couldn’t mess up. He couldn’t—

Vis changed.

Kunsel locked on him and watched as his entire body language changed.

He wasn’t focused on the fight.

…

…

…He was focused on Nyx.

He darted around him; supporting. Covering from different angles.

But his eyes weren’t on the MTs. Or the Graleans.

They were fixed on Nyx.

Specifically, on Nyx’s sight—

Stalking.

Kunsel pulled out his gun and fired.

His bullet buried Vis’s shot into a tent post.

He covered his face and fired again, forcing Vis back. He had to corner him. To get him away from the others. He took out a few lights and darted in and out of the Gralean forces, cutting down the enemies that the Glaives wouldn’t be prepared for. He continued to fire on Vis, backing him into a shadowy part of camp. Lux—

Go away!

Kunsel’s shot grazed their ear and forced their attention to an MT cornering a Hunter. Lux moved.

Vis was alone.

He grabbed his phone—

Kunsel choked him from behind until he lost consciousness. He threw the other over his shoulders and couched behind some boxes.

He waited, taking shots where he could. Then, he bolted back to his spot. He continued to dart through the trees, taking shots, while watching the Niflheim lines start to retreat.

He couldn’t let up.

Not until they were gone.

Not until they were safe.

***

“Wha—What the fuck?”

Kunsel smiled as Vis struggled against the chains, trying to move further back as the beasts lashed out against their own restraints. Their teeth grazed the other’s legs, but no blood was drawn.

Not yet.

He let them nip at Vis for another fifteen minutes before leaping down.

“Zelda! Than—"

He grabbed their chains with one hand and dragged the beasts back, tying them more securely to the other side of the cave.

Vis stared at him, mouth soundlessly opening and closing.

That’s no good.

“…I hope I haven’t killed your voice,” Kunsel boredly said, crouching next to him. “I need answers and I’m going to get them. How that happens all depends on you.”

“…You dragged them. You dragged them with one—” Vis tried to shrink into the wall. “…What are you?”

“SOLDIER.”

“Bullshit. Bullshit you’re—No. No, you’re not a soldier. Soldiers don’t—fuck maybe only the Shield could—”

Kunsel laid a knife on his tongue and Vis froze.

“…I appreciate the candid response, but I only want you to say clear answers to my questions in complete, declarative sentences. You don’t have to answer quickly. Take your time and think. I’m in no hurry. Do you understand?” Kunsel said with a smile. Vis nodded. Kunsel raised an eyebrow and adjusted the blade, so it would cut into his tongue when he answered. “…Do I really need to repeat myself?”

Confusion shown through before a cold understanding dawned in Vis’s eyes. Every muscle tensed as he prepared to be cut.

“No. I understand.”

“Excellent.” Kunsel pulled back the knife and set it down, while Vis sucked down the blood. “What are your orders?”

Vis looked thoroughly confused. He kept glancing at the beasts behind him. His heartrate increased, but not much.

He was thinking. Not panicking.

Interesting.

Kunsel didn’t move. Slowing his breathing was easy, but not blinking was always annoying as fuck.

Vis’s heartrate increased the longer he remained statuesque.

“…Why are you doing this?”

Kunsel silently picked up the knife and ripped off Vis’s thumb nail. The man screamed and looked like he wanted to throw up. He waited for his gasps to die down.

Which took longer than he’d like.

They really didn’t do well with their training.

“Vis, I don’t like repeating myself, but I think you lied earlier when you said you understood. Or, perhaps, you were confused. So, I will say this one more time. I will not say it a third. I want only want you to say clear answers to my questions in complete, declarative sentences. You don’t have to answer quickly. Take your time and think. I’m in no hurry. Do you understand?”

Vis stared at him.

“…Yeah, I understand. I—I understand you.” Vis took a quick breath. “I was ordered to make camp.”

“Who ordered you?”

“Who the fuck do you think? Drautos.”

Kunsel took off his remaining thumbnail. Vis swore violently and spat at him. Kunsel wiped it off without breaking eye contact.

“How did you receive the order?”

Vis took deep breaths and blinked back tears.

“…Word of mouth.”

“From who?”

“Pelna.”

“How?” Kunsel asked, not breaking his rhythm. Pelna passing on something… that wasn’t normal. It broke protocol.

But it explained why he knew nothing. He’d just have to check phone logs.

“Verified phone call.”

Verified?

Kunsel kept his face calm.

“How was it verified?”

“Second orders.”

“How did you receive those orders?”

“Written orders,” Vis hissed out.

“I didn’t ask what the orders were,” Kunsel calmly said, giving Vis the one chance to correct himself.

“Fuck you. Why the fu—Fuck!”

Kunsel grabbed the two fingers and tossed them over to the beasts. The creatures hurried over and sniffed at the meat. They snarled angrily, tore the small bits to pieces before lapping up whatever crumbs they could. He looked back to Vis, who looked like his brain was fire. His eyes tried to stay focused on him, but kept going back to the beasts.

There was a crack forming in Vis. Kunsel could see it forming in his eyes and body language. Would he fight back more? Or would he fall apart?

“Do you understand, Vis? Or do you need me to repeat myself?” Kunsel asked in his sweetest and most condescending voice. Vis bristled.

Fighting it is.

That would work out better for him.

“Or, is it because you have act on your own that you can’t get it right?”

“No, I get it. I get you’re a fucking monster.”

Kunsel raised an eyebrow.

“Not hardly. Monsters do what they need to out of survival and instinct. ‘Good.’ ‘Bad.’ ‘Right.’ ‘Wrong.’ ‘Ethics.’ ‘Morals.’ Those aren’t concepts to them.”

He lit a match and let it hover just above the open wounds. Not enough to burn, but just warm.

“I’m aware of all of those things. I know ‘good.’ I know ‘bad.’ I know that most would think I’m terrible for this.” He looked into Vis’s eyes. “I. Don’t. Care.”

He let the match fall onto the wound.

Vis screamed.

“You godsdamned psycho!”

“It didn’t have to be like this,” Kunsel said after his screams died down, but his breathing was still erratic. “You have more say in how this goes than I.”

Vis looked like he wanted to pass out.

“…If you need to sleep, I’ll give you forty minutes.” He ignored how his prisoner looked at him like he was insane. “I’d rather you be halfway rested, if only so you won’t suffer too much. See, these beasts hunt in an interesting way. They get angry when their targets don’t run. They like to play and be entertained before the go in for the kill. The longer you can keep away, the quicker the kill will be. Now, while I don’t like you, your screams are fairly annoying. I’d rather not hear you screaming for… well, probably it would only be twenty or twenty-three minutes at the most, based on your reactions to losing your thumbnails and fingers. It’ll be a slow, painful death."

He smiled at Vis, who’s looked truly terrified.

“Or, if you can be good and cooperate, then I’ll just shoot you. Quick and painless. It’s up to you how you die. I’ll respect whatever choice you make.”

Vis laughed. He laughed hysterically for a few minutes until the tears fell.

Kunsel smiled and walked closer to him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper. Confusion and fear seeped into Vis’s eyes.

Why are you confused?

He opened it and watched as despair overtook all other emotions on Vis’s face. Kunsel let him sit in the emotions and was intrigued by the quiet anger that was blooming.

“…How did you receive the orders, Vis?”

“Popov,” he said quietly, looking up at him. Despair, venom, and defeat all swirled together in a rather beautiful way. “Popov found me and gave the orders from Drautos. I—I fucking burned the paper. That fucker—He must have put in a second one. He—fuck. I don’t know. I… I don’t know. I did everything he asked. Every fucking order. Every fucking mission. I—I killed so many for him. Our friends. Allies. I stole and lied and used people. I—”