Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Upon a Painted Ocean ❯ Sacrifices ( Chapter 6 )

Historical Notes:

(Warning: Contains small spoiler for this chapter)

William the Conqueror: Crowned William I, he started the Plantagenet line after winning the Battle of Hastings in 1066.

The Mary Rose: The Mary Rose was Henry VIII's flagship during the latter part of his reign. Her captain, Sir Roger Grenville, drowned at sea when the Mary Rose floundered in the Solent off Portsmouth right before the horrified sovereign's eyes in 1545. Almost all hands were lost. I've taken a bit of license, altered this event to suit Ran's history, and changed this ship's story into occurring during Elizabeth's reign instead.

Upon a Painted Ocean

Chapter 6: Sacrifices

A stifling heat twined its way over Ken's skin, halting rational thought and immobilizing him in place. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he couldn't breath … all because that small, yet condemning, touch of Crawford's under his chin had ensnared him.

'Look away,' he reminded himself. 'Look away …' Deep down, he knew that if he continued to silently battle like this, he'd be lost, hypnotized and chained to the will of the older man.

"Well, Ken love, what will it be?" Hazel eyes twinkled in tempered anticipation as the words escaped seductively from Crawford's lips.

The biting venom of refusal was unmistakable on Ken's face as, by sheer force of will, he dredged up enough strength to shake off the older man's contact. Taking several steps back, the former slave stared at the dark-haired captain with an expression of pure hatred. For the first time in years, he had begun to reclaim who he truly was, had finally tasted the much deprived elixir of freedom, and now, everything he had accomplished was being threatened by the very person who had taken it all from him in the first place. Fate, it seemed, had an odd sense of humour.

"No," Ken growled dangerously, eyes focused intently on his enemy. "Not this time, Crawford. Not like before."

The other man raised a curious eyebrow at the younger brunette's show of defiance. "Are you certain of that? Need I remind you that your captain has but four days to live?"

Ken knew he should just walk away right then and leave his tormentor to revel in his own manipulations, but he couldn't … not when that look of superiority graced the older man's face.

His pride, one day, would be his own downfall, Ken thought distractedly.

"Apparently, your captain has quite a history," Crawford went on when the younger man failed to reply, and brought Ran's ring back into Ken's line of vision. The shiny gold glinted mockingly at the brunette, preening in it subtle beauty as the midday sun highlighted its untarnished luster. "When I went to a goldsmith to have this duplicated, the old man recognized this crest almost immediately. Did you know your captain belongs to a noble family whose lineage dates back to William the Conqueror?" The corner of Crawford's mouth quirked up amusedly. "Quite a mystery really: why would the son of one of the most respected families in England choose to lead a life of a common pirate over one of wealth and privilege?"

"Give it back, Crawford," Ken demanded stonily as his gaze remained fixed on the ring - Ran's ring. The bastard had no right handling it so casually. It belonged with Ran … it belonged around his captain's neck, safely tucked against his skin and away from prying eyes.

The captain of the Valiant continued to smile enigmatically at him as he held the gold band between his forefinger and thumb. "You want it back, Ken love? Are you willing to pay the price?"

The brunette's eyes narrowed in contempt as he fought the overwhelming urge to lunge at the man. He refused to beg; he had worked too hard and come too far now to go back to what he had once been.

"Go to hell, Crawford," the younger man spat as he turned around and began to walk away. He didn't care if he had to scour every single inch of London in the next three days, he would find some way to prove Ran's innocence. But it would not be like this … never like this.

"Ken."

The shout stopped him for a moment and, in a gesture born of old, hard-learned instinct, he glanced briefly back at the older man. A flash of gold winked against the blue sky and he move quickly to catch the thrown ring easily in his hands.

"A gift, Ken love," Crawford said as he watched his former slave close his fingers around the gold band. "To remember your captain by once he's gone. It's the duplicate. The original is safely hidden as it was needed to implicate the man."

The brunette loosened his grip on the piece of gold and stared at the precious metal. He would save him … he had to, Ken reminded himself.

"But the offer remains open. Remember that, Ken. When you realize how powerless you truly are, I will be waiting."

Ken closed his hand around the ring once more and turned away from his tormentor, refusing to let his former master get the better of him. "Like I said before, Crawford. Go to hell." And with that, he walked away, blindly but determinedly toward the unconquerable quest before him.

(***)

Ran leaned back on the velvet-cushioned chair and stretched out his legs as he watched the doorway with heavy-lidded eyes. Never mind the gold gilded opulence and sweet smelling rushes that surrounded him, what was of import to him right now was approaching the door. He could hear the massive shuffling that was happening beyond this royal suite, even through the heavy oak that separated it from the rest of the world. He shifted slightly against the luxurious material to achieve the physical comfort he hadn't been able to find in the weeks he'd been locked away in his cell, causing the metal chains around his wrists to rattle in a constant reminder of his fate. Apparently, the guards who had roughly dragged him here didn't hold him in high regard, seeing how they had handled him so callously and had insulted his ancestors at least five generations back before dumping him unceremoniously in the Queen's chamber. Puzzled as they were at him having gained a private audience with the monarch, they had left him here, still shackled and helpless.

He didn't mind though: he knew his journey was coming to an end, which was as it should be. He had been running and evading for so long that he was tired, and resignation seemed to be the perfect solution.

It wasn't long before the door opened, and then closed, leaving a new occupant in the chamber who instantly commanded attention and subservience. Intense, dark eyes peered and analyzed his relaxed figure from head to toe through a heavily powdered face, eventually coming to rest on his own violet eyes.

"Well, Lord Fielding, it appears you are quite a popular criminal," the Queen said as she made her way into the room, the loud ruffling of her jewel-encrusted gown the only sound to be heard. "We have actually received a plea for you life."

Moving with a grace that befitted a queen, the monarch sat down elegantly on a chaise off to Ran's left, and carefully arranged the overwhelming fabric of her skirts. That done, she returned her steely gaze to the other redhead in the room.

Ran fought hard to maintain his expressionless mask but as the silence wore on, he couldn't stop the small smile that appeared on his lips. "Please, Bess, no titles between us today," he said with a rare twinkle in his eyes, knowing how the use of the Queen's old name would break any formality that existed between them. "I'm in no mood to listen to the collective 'We' when I'm speaking with just another beautiful woman."

The Queen let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head at the younger man's comment, her posture becoming somewhat less erect as an indulgent grin formed on her normally austere face. "Ran, what am I going to do with you? If I were forty years younger …"

"If you were forty years younger, you'd have your eyes set on another, more handsome man in your court," Ran finished for her. "Besides, two stubborn redheads don't exactly make the ideal couple."

Her chuckle was melodic and feminine, echoing through the large chamber with a youthfulness that belied her age. When her laughter abated, she tried to regain some semblance of her usual regal composure, and the thought occurred to Ran of how the woman before him, one lauded as being God's own representative on earth, very rarely had the opportunity to laugh freely and express her emotions as she just did. Living in a world where her every action brought serious repercussions upon a whole nation, she had had to pretend to be something better than and beyond human for over half her life. His esteem for her grew every time he saw her.

"Speaking of handsome young men, one came to beg for your life today. Very handsome, in fact, … and bold too." At Ran's look of interest, she continued, fondly remembering the sailor she had encountered. "Brown hair, dark eyes … he even had the audacity to meet my eyes when I had dismissed him."

Ran sat up at the description put forth by the monarch, his mind marveling at the unique turn of events. It couldn't be … Not Ken … Not here … Foolish, stupid Ken! Why had he followed him here? Wasn't it enough that he gave himself up willingly so his crew would at least have a chance of being free? He didn't need the brunette here to complicate matters. A slow bubble of anger began to form somewhere inside him over the impulsive actions of his newest crewman, and he tried to quell it in hopes of hiding it from the Queen.

"He never mentioned his name, but you certainly have earned a great deal of his loyalty."

"I never asked for it," Ran snapped unconsciously, and looked away. His eyes alighted on an intricately woven tapestry hanging on the far wall, the pictures telling a story of personages long ago when heroes and villains were easily defined, and truth and valour reigned supreme. Yet, he couldn't seem to properly admire the beautiful work of art, his mind now preoccupied with so many other things. He realized he had just acted improperly, but still he could not seem to face the woman by him without the confusion he knew lingered on his face.

Perhaps she perceived his discomfort with the subject matter at hand because he heard a quiet 'tsk' before she changed the topic.

"Ran, Ran, Ran … Even I can't save you this time. There were witnesses, and your signet ring was left behind on one of my ships. I never thought you to be so careless."

He reluctantly turned his head back to look at her worried expression. "I'm not."

Until I met him, he added silently. And that was all the more reason for distancing himself from Ken. With the way he lived and the persona he tried to maintain, to form any deep attachments to anyone was dangerous … and deadly.

"But I never attacked any of your ships, Bess. You know I would never … not after …" His voice trailed off as buried memories made its way uninvited into the forefront of his mind.

The Queen's eyes softened, a look of maternal protectiveness flickering briefly over her stern expression, a look she undoubtedly would've displayed more often for the children she never had. "Are you still dwelling over that?" she asked quietly. "It was an accident, Ran. And you were little more than a boy then."

"But I cost you your prized flagship, not to mention the best admiral in your fleet," he rebutted, the anger that had been simmering just below the surface now boiling over, except now, the target of that fury had changed. No longer was he mad at Ken, but himself, the bitter taste of self-hatred now a familiar friend to him after all these years.

"He wasn't just my best admiral, Ran. He was your father and that is what you are still blaming yourself for." Her voice was level and rational, ever the epitome of a ruling monarch. But her eyes … her eyes held his with such understanding and compassion that he couldn't bear to deny her words outright. Instead, he looked away again, once more taking in the length of the tapestry hanging along the wall.

"Don't tell me you don't remember it," he said in a sad voice. "I close my eyes sometimes and see the Mary Rose sinking. I still freeze up with helplessness just like back then every time that image crosses my mind. You remember, don't you? You were there."

He heard her rise just then, and walk toward him with light, purposeful steps. He stiffened at first when he felt her gently stroke his hair, but then closed his eyes and relaxed into her comforting gesture.

"Ran, there was nothing you could have done. There was nothing even I could have done. What's past is past."

Her voice was soothing, but listening to her words had cause an unfamiliar burning behind his eyes.

What's past is past, she had said. Would that he could believe it when the passing years had taught him otherwise. No matter how far he ran or how hard he tried to forget, the clinging arms of those memories still reached out toward him, pulling him in and embracing him with no intention of letting go.

He opened his eyes then and blinked rapidly to dispel the awkward sensation that had assailed him. When he felt more like his usual self, he turned and looked at the woman standing beside him. History would record her as one of the mightiest monarchs to sit upon the throne of England, a mere female playing in a cutthroat political arena and putting her male counterparts to shame - the invincible Gloriana - but right now, she was his friend, and one of the last few remaining links to what he had once been.

"Grant me one last wish, Bess," he said calmly. "Please don't confiscate the Redemption. My crew is blameless in this and the ship … that ship means everything to me. I don't want her docked and refitted into some fleet for the rest of his life. The Redemption was meant to be sailed, free to run without any rules. Can you promise me at least that much?"

The standing monarch looked down at him sadly and sighed. "I will try, Ran." She turned from him then and paced the rush-covered floor for a moment before coming to a stop a few steps away. "But you certainly don't make it any easier on me, do you? This loss of spirit isn't like you. Now I have to decide whether to give you a nobleman's death by cutting off your head or hang you like a common pirate."

"Privateer," Ran corrected automatically. Then he added amusedly, "Calling me a pirate is like … is like calling an assassin a common killer. There is a fine distinction."

The Queen shook her head at his show of brevity during a crisis like this. "Still, you were seen attacking one of my ships, and the people want to see justice."

"Then by all means, let us give it to them." He met her gaze from his position on the chair, the seriousness of his tone easily communicating the finality of his decision. "If they want my head, then so be it."

(***)

London

Three days later…

"Crawford, may I ask you something?" Schuldich looked at the departing captain who had been making his way toward the gangplank, undoubtedly heading off to further his latest scheme. "Why are you doing this?"

The other man paused and turned to look at the redhead leaning lazily on the aft rail of the Valiant, the late day sun playing innocently off his fine features and highlighting select strands of gold in his hair. "Do I need a reason?" he answered back, eyes wary but calculating in their assessment of his crewman's question.

Schuldich smiled coldly at the older man's response, and stored the evasive remark away for future use. "No, not at all."

Seeing that he'd satisfied the redhead's uncharacteristic show of curiosity, Crawford turned around and proceeded to make his way onto the London docks, question and questioner forgotten.

The reposing redhead watched the captain leave, his mind mulling over the schemes that Crawford had played with since he'd come aboard the Valiant. The man was ruthless, and cunning, he knew, but now, he was tempted to put obsessive onto that list. During the past two years, he'd witnessed the dark-haired captain lie, cheat, and kill in cold blood, all done with such a show of detachment and grace that any well-bred gentleman would have looked on in envy. Furthermore, to be honest, that was what had drawn Schuldich to him in the beginning. Crawford reminded him of his youth, of the people he had grown up with, of the beautiful glittering facades that had hidden the deadliest of minds. The man, in short, was something familiar in an unfamiliar world.

But now … now this new player had diverted his captain's attention, drawing out a side of Crawford he'd never seen before. The older man seemed rather distracted, the energy he had put into ensnaring his new target bordering on what Schuldich could only call obsessive.

And that could be dangerous … because obsession could easily become a weakness, and weakness … well, exploitation of weaknesses was a rare art he had mastered from the cradle.

(***)

The Tower of London loomed threateningly before Ken as he made his way toward it, the shadow of the edifice enough to deter any sane man from voluntarily entering into its confines. He remembered hearing tales of this place, stories of young princes, banished royalty, and wronged nobility whose spirits still lingered within its wall. Objectively, it was a remarkable structure, sturdy stone walls and proud standing towers weathering the elements of time, but the purpose of its existence cast an ominous pallor over the whole area, its secured chambers and dark halls the last thing many unfortunate condemned saw before meeting their end.

But Ran was in there, Ken thought as he fingered the gold coins he'd borrowed from Kit to bribe the guards. If there was one thing he'd learned through the years, it was the value of gold and the insatiable lust that men had for it. He could only hope he had enough to pay his way in to see his captain.

Deep down, he was nervous: they hadn't parted on the best of terms, and even after all this time, he was still apprehensive of how he'd be treated. What would he say to the man? What could he say? That he had tried his best, but regardless, the execution would stand? That he had enjoyed his time on the Redemption and it had been an honour to serve under such a wonderful captain? Ken felt his muscles stiffen even further as a result of the utter frustration he had experienced over the past three days, a time during which he'd tried to hunt down these so-called witnesses Crawford had spoken of and even that goldsmith the man had mentioned in passing. But searching for those select few in the growing populace that was London was a task akin to impossible and never had he felt such despondency as when he had come away from three endless days of looking completely empty-handed. He had wheedled his way through the avaricious hands of the middle class merchants down to the contemptible, seedy establishments of the London underworld, and had walked out with absolutely nothing.

Nothing but a growing desperation and a dying hope.

The twisting knot inside his stomach tightened as he approached one of the entrances of the renowned prison. He saw the two burly guards standing on duty as he moved closer, the men looking like they belonged more in the gaming hells he'd visited yesterday than in the service of the Queen. Taking out the concealed pouch of gold, he prepared himself for a lengthy bout of bargaining.

One step at a time, he told himself. Once he got in, he'll worry about getting Ran out. There had to be some way to prove his innocence … other than the alternative he refused to take.

(***)

Ran felt his whole body tense when the door opened and the young man entered. The grey stone walls of his moderately furnished cell seemed to provide a drastic contrast to the life that surrounded the new arrival. He watched, frozen by some invisible hand as the brunette walked slowly to the unoccupied chair across the table from him. The errant locks of rich, brown hair, the glittering gems of deep, dark eyes, the proud angle of strong, determined features … Ken.

He had never thought he'd see him again, and now that the brunette was here, he wasn't sure he wanted to see him. There was too much he had done, too much he had said that was unforgivable and yet, now, seemed so trivial.

Ken sat down, and glanced around at his surroundings, eyes undoubtedly taking in every amenity and lack thereof in order to avoid his gaze. Ran knew exactly what the other man would see: unforgiving walls enclosed a small, livable space, and although the lumpy mattress, the table, and the two chairs were luxuries afforded to him on the merit of his rank, the locked door reminded its occupants of what this place truly was - a prison cell disguised as a simple room.

Finally, Ken finished his assessment of the chamber and met his eyes, a sudden spark of warmth igniting in his chest at that look. They said nothing for a while, but just sat and stared, subtly drinking in the sight of each other and enjoying the other's presence after such a long time apart.

It was odd, Ran thought, that with all that time on the Redemption when they were together and suffered the strained silence, they would find a certain comfort in the other's presence now. But he didn't question it; he didn't want to ruin this temporary peace that had settled between the two of them.

An eternity could have passed and Ran would've been none the wiser, but inevitably, it had to end.

"You've lost weight," Ken said casually as if commenting on the weather. "They haven't been feeding you well?"

Ran leaned back in his chair and donned the mantle of the removed captain almost instinctively. "Dead men don't need to eat."

It was a rare treat for him when he saw red-hot anger flash through Ken's eyes. The brunette shifted his body forward, and banged a fist on the table between them. "Why?" he demanded hotly. "Why did you give up so easily? Why did you let yourself be locked up like this without a fight? You're not like that! You're not a coward!" His voice got louder with every word, until he noticed the amused look on the redhead's face.

"What?"

Ran looked on with heavy-lidded eyes and an enigmatic smile. "You," he answered. "You've changed so much, Ken. Two months ago, you couldn't even look me in the eyes, and now … Now, I hear you're challenging queens." Ran looked the younger man up and down, admiring the quiet confidence the brunette was now exuding. "It's amazing how far you've come. And yet, I can't say that I'm surprised. I knew this fire was buried somewhere in you that day I first saw you on the block in Santa Domingo."

Ken straightened slightly at Ran's observation, and looked away for a moment. Had the lighting been better, the young captain might have been able to discern a slight blush that crept onto the brunette's cheeks. After a brief pause, he turned back to the other man, his voice now calmer.

"Kit said you were running from something. Is that why you're here? Is that why you gave up?"

"No," the redhead answered seriously. "No, Ken, I didn't give up. This was something that should've happened long ago. This is right."

"Right?"

Ran could see the younger man's emotions begin to flare again.

"Right? Don't talk about right, Captain! You're a pirate for Christ's sake! For you, there is no right or wrong! You plunder ships, you command riff-raff and you're supposed to acted damned arrogant!" Ken stopped to take a breath, although his heated gaze never left Ran. "You were meant to be free. Not locked up in here like some animal, waiting for your own execution."

Ran couldn't find the words to respond to that. He didn't know what to say.

"What's so important, Captain, that you have to throw your life away? What's so bloody damning that you're making this sacrifice?" Ken continued, his voice taking on more of an accusatory tone. "Because let me tell you something, Captain: you had the whole world at your feet. You could sail off into the horizon and explore the endless oceans to your heart's content. You were free, free to do anything you wished. And I, for one, don't understand how you could just throw it all away. Isn't that in itself something worth fighting for?"

Ran swallowed, the other man's words piercing deep into his flesh and yet, he couldn't - no, he wouldn't - let if affect him.

Ken watched in frustration at the redhead's lack of response. "Coward," he muttered.

The moment the word left his lips, Ran lunged across the table and grabbed Ken by the collar, causing his chair to fall over with a resounding bang. He dragged the brunette to his feet and stopped when he was sure the younger man could feel his breath glide along his face.

"You want to know?" Ran growled through clenched teeth. "You want to know, Ken, about the demons I've faced every single day of my life for the past ten years? Well, before I tell you, let me ask you this: what gives you the right to dig into my problems? What give you, a slave, my very own property that I paid for with my hard-earned gold, the right to question what I do with my life?"

It was a reflex born of habit and emotional self-preservation that had caused him to say those words, and Ran knew it the moment he saw the rapidly hidden flash of hurt in Ken's eyes. Letting go of his hold on the brunette, he turned around and righted his chair, his voice still vibrating in the ensuing silence. When he sat down again, and looked over at Ken, he noticed the younger man slouch slightly lower in his seat, eyes now averted and downcast.

Suddenly, Ran wanted to take everything he had said back, to erase everything he had verbally thrown at Ken and see that passionate sparkle in the former slave's eyes again. But unfortunately, he couldn't, so he did the next best thing.

Taking a deep breath first, Ran's eyes remained unwaveringly on Ken's defeated posture as he began his story.

"My father was an admiral in the Royal Navy, one of the Queen's best, in fact," Ran started, tone calm and even as he recounted a story he had never told anyone. "I was fourteen when I convinced my sister to stow away with me on one of my father's ships. I had such dreams of grand adventure back then, and like any adoring sibling, she readily agreed to hide with me on board the Mary Rose. My father had set sail with a royal send-off from the Queen herself before he discovered us. Immediately, he changed course to take us back. When we were close enough to shore, he dispatched us in one of his rowboats with Kit to see us safely to land," Ran paused then, feeling a lump form in his throat at the words he was trying to form. But Ken looked on encouragingly, and it was enough to motivate him into continuing.

"I don't know what happened then, but when we were halfway to shore, the Mary Rose floundered - something to do with the tide at that time of day and being so close to shore, I was told - and she sank right before our eyes, all hands lost. My sister jumped into the water before Kit or I could stop her, and tried to swim back to save Father, but she was never a strong swimmer, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't reach her. She drowned right before my eyes …" He stopped, his voice strangely cracking as he finished, but after a moment of comfortable silence, he went on, eyes and tone once again steady.

"She would never have been there were it not for me, and my father … if I hadn't stowed away on his ship, he would never have had to turn back, and the Mary Rose would've sailed off safely. In that one day, I had lost both my father and sister. My mother died two weeks later, which I sometimes count as a blessing since I don't think I could've lived with the accusations she would've eventually thrown my way. They said she had died of a weak heart, but I saw it for what it really was - grief."

Compassion flooded Ken's warm, brown eyes as Ran spoke, and all of a sudden, he felt slightly uncomfortable with the emotion from the other man. The young captain looked down at the scarred surface of the wooden table before resuming his story. "After that, I locked myself up in Fielding Manor for two years … two years of self-imposed exile, to wallow in guilt and remorse. Then one day, I woke up and decided to leave … to leave this place and never come back. I sold off everything that wasn't entailed and bought the Redemption. And with her, I ran … I ran as far away and as fast as I could from everything that I was and everything I had done …"

Ran looked up then and met Ken's gaze once more, the haunted fire in the former's violet eyes enough to cause the former slave to gasp. "But I'm tired, Ken, tired of running from all the mistakes I made so long ago. I should've been the one to d - "

"No!" The shout escaped from Ken's mouth before Ran could finish. "Don't you ever say that! You made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes."

"Not me!" Ran retorted.

Ken's eyes narrowed slightly at his captain's response. Standing up, he placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, a combination of frustration and anger evident in his expression. "You arrogant, selfish bastard," he said is a low tone. "You think this is the only way to atone for what you've done? By giving up your life?" When Ran didn't respond, the brunette's face softened, as did his voice. "Look, I understand how you feel but it's no reason to - "

"Do you?" The redheaded captain interrupted loudly, standing up as well and leaning forward to meet the brunette face to face. He didn't like that look of concern and understanding in the younger man's eyes. He didn't want it … didn't need it … "Do you understand how it feels to lose everything in a blink of an eye, and know you're responsible?"

"Yes!" Anger for anger, and a shout for a shout. "Yes, I do! Don't give me this repentance and self-induced punishment talk, Captain. I stood by as everyone I held close died, and I couldn't do a damned thing about it! Don't lecture me on guilt …"

Having had enough of this, Ken broke the impromptu staring match, and turned around, making ready to leave. "I watched everyone and everything I loved die, Captain," he said with his back turned. "So I refuse to sit idly by and watch you throw your life away too."

With that, Ken walked toward the door, his posture straight and his expression unseen.

Ran stared helplessly at the retreating back. This was not how he had wanted it to end. This was not how he wanted Ken to remember him after he was gone. He had done and said so many things to the younger man that he had yet to explain and apologize for. And yet, … and yet, when he opened his mouth to stop the former slave, the wrong words came out. He never said the right words …

"Ken," Ran called as the brunette put his hand on the doorknob. "Promise me something before you leave. Look after the Redemption for me. She's … she's all I have left."

The younger man paused for a moment, politely considering his captain's request. And then, before stepping out of the chamber, he glanced over his shoulder with a look of sad determination in his gaze. "No, Ran, you still have me."

(***)

He walked, not knowing where he was headed or what he was doing. Hollow steps on cobbled stones, he walked, unsure and unaware of where his life should be going now. Early evening dusk had descended over London Town as the growing void inside his body began to gnaw at him … and he walked.

Ken wondered if he should be feeling something - anything - right now because he didn't. He was neither happy nor sad, neither hopeful nor hopeless, neither carefree nor worried as he left the Tower. Nothing but hollowness and emptiness.

Then he stopped, the lurking presence in the shadows effectively halting him as it did every time it was nearby. He didn't need to look or speak to know who had been waiting for him. In fact, subconsciously, Ken had wanted him to be here.

Staring straight ahead, Ken spoke to the man off to the side in a level, sure tone.

"My freedom for his, Crawford."

End Chapter 6