Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Upon a Painted Ocean ❯ Upon a Painted Ocean ( Chapter 15 )

Upon a Painted Ocean
Chapter 15: Upon a Painted Ocean

Something was wrong with him.

Ran leaned back in his chair and stared fixedly at the reposing figure on the adjacent bed. He had come in here nearly an hour ago to briefly check on Ken's condition, and somehow, he had ended up sitting calmly in his cabin and watching the brunette sleep. The tranquility provided by the sound of the younger man's even breaths, the peace created from the rhythmic rise and fall of that chest, and the plain serenity exuded by that relaxed face ... it all conspired against him.

Yes, something was definitely wrong with him.

The initial worry that had first consumed him when his crew had dragged both Ken and him from the ocean had long subsided. After treating the brunette's wounds and ensuring that he would live, Ran had quickly carried the younger man into his own cabin in hopes that the more comfortable surroundings would assist in a faster recovery. If his crew had had any objections or comments to their captain's uncharacteristic actions, they never said anything.

And now, Ran couldn't seem to tear himself away. He should get back on deck, back to the mindless - and safe - routine of commanding the ship, but the very act of doing so required more willpower than he was capable of at the moment. Granted, he was the captain, a man well above the duty of seeing to the needs of a common crewman, but as he had slowly learned these past few months, the basic structure of his well-ordered life made no sense when the brunette was involved.

"Ken, what have you done to me?" he whispered as he bent over and brushed an errant lock of rich brown hair from the younger man's sleeping face. His fingers lingered guiltily on the soft skin, and in that instance, Ran experienced what he would've labeled as one of the most perfect moments in his life.

Just then, the sleeping man shifted slightly, causing the redhead to quickly pull his hand away. Ran waited, expecting the brunette to open his eyes, but when nothing of the kind occurred, he sighed and pushed himself up.

'I should really get back on deck,' he thought resignedly as he began walking toward the door. The Redemption would be docking soon, and he did not doubt that he'd be needed above deck.

"Ran?"

The softly spoken word stopped the young captain in his tracks. He didn't know if he was nervous or relieved that Ken was awake, but either way, he found himself unable to move at the hoarse voice, preferring instead to let the thick silence settle around him.

He couldn't let it go on like this, he told himself as he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. To feel this uneasiness and this uncertainty whenever Ken was near ... it was not something he could leave alone. He needed to alleviate this unwanted tension that always descended between the two of them, to make sense of these conflicting emotions that assaulted him in Ken's presence. He needed to ... but not right now.

'Coward,' an inner voice echoed in his head.

Ran pointedly ignored it and turned to directly meet those drowsy brown eyes. "Go back to sleep, Ken," he said gently. "We'll be arriving in port soon so you can rest all you want."

Ran wondered when he'd started running from his problems as he started for the exit again. Was it so difficult to sit down and explore these unfamiliar emotions that overrode his rationality at every turn? Was it so difficult to analyze the reasons for his uncharacteristic actions these past few months? Was it so difficult to simply face Ken?

No, he concluded after a brief moment of reflection. But it scared the bloody hell out of him.

"No, wait! Captain ... Ran ... "

The redhead froze with his hand on the doorknob as his name bounced off the walls of the cabin. This was only the fourth time he'd ever heard Ken say his name, and despite the breech in protocol, Ran relished the rare sound as it rolled off the brunette's tongue like precious drops of diamonds.

"I ... I ... " Ken seemed to be at a loss for words. Then, after taking a steadying breath, "Thank you."

At this, Ran turned around, surprised that the injured man would even say such a thing. "Why? What for?" he asked like a fool.

Ken struggled to rise, and after the first two failed - and painful - attempts, the young captain finally moved to help. Touching the brunette while he was asleep was one thing, but the feel of those moving muscles beneath his hand while the man was awake and cognizant was another; Ken's heat suffused through his skin, soaked into every pore, and sweetly branded the very core of his being. Only through some mysterious inner strength was he able to pull away, leaving Ken to catch his breath at the strenuous movement.

The younger man took a few moments to accustom himself to the pain before looking up at his assistant. "I have more to thank you for than you realize, Captain," he said levelly. At Ran's puzzled look, he continued. "For coming to get me when anyone else would've forgotten, for showing me a taste of freedom when I never thought it possible ... and for giving me hope when I didn't know I needed it ..."

The redhead listened to the words and understood the meaning behind them, but he had never considered that the scars Ken harbored ran so deep. Yet, still, after everything, he was not privy to that aspect of the brunette's life, no matter how much he wanted to share whatever darkness the former slave kept so adamantly buried. That was something only Ken himself could rectify.

"For everything," the injured man finished, seemingly done with his expression of gratitude.

Ran waited for more, something - anything - that might have pointed to how the very tension that had once existed between them had changed. But nothing was forthcoming. He stared down at the sitting man, thirstily drinking in the beautiful sight of those soulful brown eyes and the thick, mussed hair. So this was how Ken wished it, this continued game of hidden secrets and enigmatic pasts. He had thought ... he had thought that back on the island, they had thrown away these masks and riddles, that he had finally found something in this godforsaken world that made life worthwhile. But apparently, that was not the case. Only now was he aware of the risk he had taken back at Nikolai's mansion, making himself so vulnerable and open like that. Had Ken known and taken advantage of what it had cost him to offer a piece of himself after their skirmish on the island, he would've surely been destroyed.

He was such a bloody idiot sometimes.

Standing straighter, he erased all emotion from his face and spoke with the no-nonsense tone he used when addressing his crewmen. "It was a debt I had to pay. After all, you had a hand in freeing me from the Tower, did you not?" The question was rhetorical, and both men knew it. "We're even now," the redhead added, eyes hardening as he turned away and began to move toward the door.

"No, wait!"

Ran stopped, hope flaring but easily tempered when past experiences played over in his mind.

"I owe you much, Captain ... "

"No, you don't," the redhead stated quickly and harshly.

'You have it the other way around,' he wanted to add. 'You showed me a side of myself that I had thought died the day the Mary Rose sank ... you showed me the value of life, and for that, I owe you everything.'

But for Ran, those words were only spoken inside his head, locked and sealed away by a fear he could not overcome and could have done without. He clamped down on his tongue, and closed his eyes in an effort to collect himself and maintain the demeanor he'd long made his trademark. He was the captain of one of the most renowned privateer ships to sail the oceans, and he refused to be weakened by a man who was nothing more than a deckhand.

"Yes ... yes, I do," Ken said, unaware of the redhead's inner turmoil. "You've wanted to know about me since the day I came aboard, didn't you? You've wanted me to open up and tell you who I was before you found me?"

Ran clenched his fists, valiantly fighting the mixed emotions that flooded through him, and the urges to turn and face the brunette.

"It's the least I can offer you in return for everything you've - "

"No!" The shout escaped the redhead's lips before he could stop it. Fury fueling the violet fires of his eyes, he whipped around and pinned Ken to the bed with his anger. "Don't even start. I don't want to hear it!"

Ken watched the standing man with surprise. "Ran ... ?"

"If you tell me, let it be because you want to, not because you have to," the young captain ground out, gaze unwavering. He realized he'd just undermined the very character he'd tried to portray, but frankly, he couldn't make himself care anymore. "Tell me because you believe in me, because you trust me," he said more softly. "Please, Ken, at least give me that much dignity ... after everything we've been through."

Even after hearing himself say the words, he had a difficult time believing that he was the source of such a soul-baring confession. And yet, it was too late to retract it all now, especially when he had spoken with such uncharacteristic emotion in his voice. He understood that he'd just put himself at Ken's mercy, revealing his very being - unarmed and vulnerable - for the younger man to do as he desired. He could only hope that it wouldn't be too cruel.

And when the brunette didn't say anything, but only stared back impassively, Ran felt something inside him begin to die. Chest constricting painfully, the proud captain lifted his head up higher and turned to leave.

"My father was a pirate."

Ken's voice was strong, clear, and unhindered by the shields that the redhead had grown accustomed to hearing. He looked back at the younger man whose eyes were shining with earnestness, honesty, ... and openness. Slowly, and unconsciously, the stunned captain retraced his steps and lowered himself into the chair he'd occupied earlier, an inexplicable fluttering materializing in the pit of his stomach at what was about to unfold before him.

"My mother was a prisoner he'd taken when he attacked a British ship," the brunette continued when the captain had settled into his seat. Nostalgic light gleaming in his eyes, he turned his dark gaze to the cabin window and the endless sea beyond, a small smile playing on his lips. "She was beautiful, my mother ... an English noblewoman who probably would have had all the men at her feet had she stayed at court."

Reminiscent expression still on his face, Ken turned his attention back to Ran. "Do you know why I hated you so much when I first came on board?"

Ran shook his head, afraid to speak for fear of interrupting the other man's tale.

"It was because I thought you were like him, my father." Those usually vivid brown eyes turned cold at the mention of the man, and Ran only caught a brief glimpse of the hatred that burned in their depths before the younger man looked down at his hands. "He took her captive, raped her, and then, was so taken with her that he kept her. And every day, for the rest of her life, he killed her piece by piece - a piece of her beauty, a piece of her spirit, and a piece of her soul. In the end, she couldn't stand it anymore, and hanged herself. When I found her body, I couldn't help but feel happy for her because finally, she was free."

The sadness and desolation written plainly on Ken's face contradicted the very happiness he spoke of, and the redhead was hard-pressed not to reach out and comfort the man. Instead, he asked, "How old were you?"

"Eleven," Ken replied softly, eyes now fixated on some piece of thread on the blanket covering his lap. "Not old enough to know the ways of the world, but enough to understand the misery my mother lived through. She taught me so much - how to read, how to write, how to act like a gentleman ... but even I knew how happy she was when she finally ended it all."

"Ken ... " Ran wanted to sound sympathetic, wanted to sound comforting, but years of neglecting that aspect of his character only made his interjection seem more like a command to stop.

The brunette looked over at his only audience and gave him a small smile of reassurance before returning his gaze downward. Then, with renewed vigor, he continued. "They never married, which meant that I was born a bastard, but on my father's ship, there was no distinction held in a man's birth. And so, I grew up at sea, and worked alongside his men like any other deckhand."

At the younger man's brief pause, Ran saw an opportunity to appease some of his curiosity. "What was he like? Your father, I mean."

Of all the responses the redhead had expected, it definitely wasn't the abrupt laugh that erupted from Ken, an empty, humorless sound tinged by an undertone of regret and lost opportunities. "My father?" the brunette repeated with a derisive smirk once his outburst had subsided. "He was a reprobate, a drunkard, an irresponsible rakeshell ... a dim-witted piece of slime that wouldn't have even been fit to grace the bottom of your boot. In fact, now that I think back on it, I don't know how he survived so long, let alone run a ship. By the time I was sixteen, it was basically me who was commanding his crew, me leading the raids that he so foolishly wanted to conduct. God, there were so many times I wanted that man dead. I didn't care if it was a sin."

Ran sat patiently by, waiting for Ken to vent the anger that he had repressed for much too long. But when the brunette didn't continue, the young captain decided to ask another question that had been dancing on his tongue. "And Crawford?"

At the mention of that man's name, dark brown eyes focused on the interrogator, and a corner of the upturned lips quirked up even higher. "You know about Crawford?"

The redhead nodded.

Ken sighed before he turned to stare straight ahead and started his explanation. "It happened the day I turned eighteen. I don't remember what port we were anchored in, but I had accidentally bumped into a man on the docks when I was supervising the loading of some supplies. He appeared normal enough, polite and well mannered, but during the next few days in port, I would catch glimpses of him ... it seemed like no matter where I went, he had followed. Then, on our last night on land, a crewman informed me that my father had gotten soused at a local tavern, and that he'd taken up with some questionable company. To be honest, I wasn't surprised, but nonetheless, he was my father and we couldn't leave port without him. And so, I went to find him, only to discover that he'd been gambling with the very man who had been following me the past several days."

"Crawford?" Ran supplied.

The brunette inclined his head at his companion's assumption. "By the time I arrived, Crawford had managed to win my father's ship in a hand of cards. My father, even in his drunken state, understood what he'd done and was desperate to get it back."

"So what did he do?"

Again, that empty smile graced Ken's lips, an expression the redhead would prefer never to see on the man again. "When Crawford saw me, he offered my father a choice: his ship or me. Guess what he chose?"

Ran leaned back in his chair, not liking the direction the story was heading.

"Apparently, his ship was worth more to him than his own son." The brunette's face darkened into seriousness as if recalling the events of that fateful day. "I tried to run away, but Crawford had his men ready. Before I knew it, I was ... I was his. I attempted to escape so many times, but he was always ready for it. He even marked me, claiming that I was his." Absently, Ken reached back and touched the scar branded on the base of his neck. Then, almost fearfully, he glanced over at the redhead before casting his gaze downward again.

"And your father?" Ran prompted, fighting to keep his own anger at Crawford out of his voice and refusing to discourage Ken from finishing his tale.

The question was met with a momentary silence and the young captain suddenly regretted his inquiry when Ken's eyes glistened brightly with the sheen of unshed tears. "I had been on the Valiant for less than a day when Crawford chased my father's ship down and sank her. I watched on deck as the only home and the only life I had ever known sunk before my eyes. I may not have loved my father, but he was my father nonetheless, and the crew ... I had so many friends in that crew ... but they all died with the ship. I remember Crawford saying that with the ship gone, I had nowhere to escape to ... "

"But you did escape ..."

"Yes, I escaped," the brunette breathed out and finally turned to speak directly to his companion. "At one of the ports we came to, but like he said, I had nowhere to go. And I got careless. I had wanted to get away from him so badly that I accidentally snuck onto a slave ship, and the rest ... well, for the next few years of my life, I learned the meaning of true captivity."

Ran watched silently as Ken's expression went from haunted to resigned, and finally, to fatigued. If it had been within his power, he would've erased all those painful memories from the younger man's life: Ken wasn't meant to suffer these harsh trials that had been inflicted upon him. He was meant to smile and laugh with the carefree brightness and the charming innocence he had somehow managed to secretly retain all these years. Even now, after everything he had undergone, the brunette still carried an undefeated air about him, an untarnished strength that Ran couldn't help but admire ... and love.

Love?

Just then, a shout from above deck interrupted his musings, and the young captain couldn't have been more grateful for its timeliness. Giving the brunette his most sincere look, he rose. "I need to prepare for docking," he said gruffly, uncomfortable with the unfamiliar feelings that had settled within him. "Get some rest."

If the drooping eyes were any indication, Ken was obviously worn out from speaking, and thus, without argument, he nodded and lay back down with a pained wince. Ran watched the injured man shift to make himself more comfortable in his bed, feeling something that resembled protectiveness grip him - and it didn't have the same quality as what he felt toward his ship or crew. This was much stronger, definitely different ... and completely frightening.

Ran walked over to the door and placed his hand on the knob before turning his head to give Ken one last look. He couldn't do anything about the younger man's past, but he could certainly do something about his future, he decided.

"Thank you," he said quietly to the reposing man.

"Hmm?" came the drowsy response.

Ran smiled slightly at the childish air of the reaction. "Thank you, Ken, for telling me ... and for trusting me," he finished before opening the door and stepping back out on the deck ... and into his captain's role.

(***)

Candia, Crete

Ran hopped off the gangplank and onto the unfamiliar deck, eyes quickly taking in the lax sails and the loose rigging of the ship he had seen too many times in the past few weeks. The Redemption had docked a little over two hours ago in Candia, and much to his consternation, the young captain had watched, seething, as the Valiant sailed into the port shortly thereafter. It had not taken him long to decide on a course of action upon seeing Crawford's ship, and thus, after finishing his duties on his own ship, he'd left to seek out the other vessel.

And now, here he was, easily boarding the nearly deserted Valiant without any interference, his plan clearly set in his mind and his objective unmistakably etched before him. He had to find Crawford; the sooner he saw the man, the sooner he could be put at ease about Ken's fate.

Ran looked around, noting only three unknown sailors working diligently at untangling the rigging that hung messily from the masts. Even with the skeleton crew, the redhead received the impression that this was a well-run ship, and yet, somehow, he couldn't help but feel that it lacked the comfortable atmosphere of the Redemption.

"I didn't expect to see you so soon."

The calm voice snapped the captain from his unconscious assessment. Ran turned his attention to the quarterdeck, back straight and eyes unwavering as he waited for the figure to descend the few steps onto the main deck. "We have some unfinished business to attend to and I'm not a man who avoids his duties," he said to Crawford as he looked the man up and down: the crisp white shirt, clean dark breeches, and newly polished boots would've easily fooled an outsider into believing that the dark-haired man was a gentleman at leisure.

"Then is this a challenge?" One dark eyebrow rose as its owner noticed the lack of weapon around his visitor's waist.

Ran smirked, secretly liking the other man's puzzlement. "Not the type you would think."

"Then what are you proposing?"

At Crawford's question, the redhead held up what he had carried all the way from the Redemption in his hand - a deck of cards. "A game. A very quick and simple one."

The dark-haired captain chuckled at the proposition, humorless though it was, but whether the man was laughing at his guest's overconfidence or his stupidity, Ran didn't know. After collecting himself, Crawford finally found voice and asked, "And I suppose you have something in mind for the ante?"

"Yes. Ken." The redhead kept his gaze leveled on the other man, hoping to understand more of his opponent through his reactions, but if Crawford felt anything for Ran's idea, he didn't show it.

"According to the agreement we made back in London, you've won," the Valiant captain stated tonelessly. "Why this?"

Now, it was Ran's turn to chuckle emptily. "Somehow, I don't trust you," he said plainly.

"That statement in itself requires that I challenge you to a duel. Doubting a gentleman's word is a grave insult to the gentleman."

The redhead kept his eyes trained on the other man, unwilling to be intimidated by anything thrown his way. "And yet, you don't strike me as the complete gentleman," he responded. He crossed his arms and tried to make his posture appear as relaxed as possible, refusing to let Crawford see any of his own weaknesses, especially the one he was about to secretly reveal. "If you win," he began. "I give you Ken's slave papers, with my promise to leave him alone."

"And if you win?"

"If I win," Ran said more firmly as he lowered his arms. "You leave Ken alone and never enter his life again. He shall be free and clear of your presence. And if I find out that you've been anywhere near him, I will ensure that your life will be significantly shorter."

Crawford actually had the audacity to smile tauntingly at the threat. "And that should be enough of a reason for me to agree to your challenge?"

"Then I'll add something else to it," the redhead returned quickly. "The Redemption."

At this, the dark-haired man did react, a barely noticeable widening of his eyes, but a reaction nonetheless.

Ran could only hope that his opponent would accept the proposal, and not see how much he had at stake. Face emotionless, he clarified in a business-like tone, "Should you win, Ken and the Redemption are yours."

Crawford stared steadily at his redheaded counterpart for a moment - a moment that stretch for so long, Ran felt worry begin to bloom in his chest - and then, shook his head, amusement shining clearly on his face. "I would never have taken you for such a fool, Captain," he observed disparagingly, and paused, expecting the other man to take back what he had just offered. Yet, Ran said nothing, his posture and expression solemn enough that Crawford swiftly sobered up and looked at his serious companion curiously. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Likewise, I could ask you why you want Ken so badly," the redhead countered easily, continuing to observe the other stone-faced captain intently. But Crawford had now closed himself off, not a glimmer of weakness visible on his unreadable face. "Life's a gamble," Ran said honestly. "Or so I'm beginning to learn. That's what Ken has taught me. And I would rather have Ken, healthy and happy, than anything else. If I must sacrifice my ship to see to it, then I will do so. Without Ken, the Redemption would be a sore consolation prize."

The dark-haired captain stood, apparently absorbing the words and yet, seemingly unaffected. "From one captain to another, let me tell you no slave is worth that much."

"Then you don't really want him, do you?"

Golden eyes flared with life, a contradiction to every other aspect of the cold captain. "What do you know of what I do and do not want? What do - "

"Ken is not a possession to be had!" Ran interrupted, his voice beginning to heat up. "If you truly wanted him, then you should know that."

Something fought beneath that impenetrable exterior, something dark, something confusing - something buried - and no matter how hard Crawford tried to hide it, Ran clearly saw for the very first time the conflict he'd ignited within the other man with his words.

It seemed that Crawford was human after all ...

"So be it," the dark-haired captain said finally, his simple acceptance effectively deciding the course Ken's life would take.

Ran watched as Crawford gave him a mocking bow and led him to the captain's cabin. The redhead followed obediently, cards clasped tightly in his hand, his own nervousness barely concealed beneath an impassive mask that had served him so well in the past. Aside from convincing Crawford to accept his challenge, he had no other pre-meditated plan as to what he would do. He had never been a gambler, and the prospect of dealing away Ken's future - and his own - in a single card was not something he had ever pictured himself facing. And yet, as he had told the other man earlier, life was a gamble. Without risking something of himself, he would never reap the rewards that life had to offer. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he never did choose the safer road.

Crawford's cabin could've been summed up in one word - spartan. Whereas Ran's quarters boasted tiny touches of luxury, the dark-haired man's showed no such extravagances. Of course, the bed, chests, and desk were neatly arranged and nailed down in the small space, but like its owner, no personality shone through, its ambience leading one to believe that no one actually lived here.

"Once you are done admiring my accommodations ..." Crawford gestured to a chair by his desk as he took a seat behind it.

Ran gave a cursory glance at the neatly arranged maps and documents on the polished surface, and sat down.

"How do you wish to conduct this?" the Valiant captain asked as he watched the redhead place the cards on the desk and begin to shuffle.

Ran raised his eyes from his task to meet his opponent's. "As I said before, very simple. Three single draws, highest card wins in each case."

"That's rather presumptive of you, isn't it?" Crawford smirked. "Not much skill, and complete chance?"

The younger captain ignored the deliberate taunt and finished shuffling, pushing the deck closer to the other man for him to cut. Crawford leaned forward and complied, an amused smile pasted on his face as he did so. And yet, Ran received the impression that the man was wearing a detached mask, one that was becoming more strained and fragile as the meeting progressed, ... and one that had its owner completely fooled.

Unaware of the redhead's observations, Crawford indicated for Ran to start. "Guests first," he said with false graciousness.

How he managed to keep his hand steady as he chose his first card, Ran would never know, but somehow, he did.

The three of clubs.

Placing the condemning thing face up on the desk, he held his emotions in check and waited for Crawford to draw his card. Expression unperturbed, the Valiant captain chose from the deck.

The knave of diamonds.

Ran discreetly rubbed his hands on his breeches to wipe away the perspiration that had suddenly coated his palms.

Two more draws. He still had two more draws.

Ignoring the rapid staccato of his heart, he gestured for Crawford to select first this time.

The queen of spades.

Bloody hell! Ran had to clamp down on his tongue to avoid cursing aloud at the turn of events. There wasn't much that could beat that card ...

The king of diamonds.

He couldn't stop the relieved breath that escaped him at his draw, which caused a small chuckle from Crawford. Ran threw the man a pointed glare before drawing his last card, but instead of turning it over, he waited for his opponent to choose his. And with his habitually detached air, the dark-haired man did.

Two concealed cards, and two indomitable men who would decide the fate of another with a simple flick of their wrists. If Ran didn't know any better, he would have thought that some melodramatic playwright had contrived the whole tableau.

Violet clashed with gold, and in an unspoken moment of agreement, both men flipped over their cards.

Had he not already been sitting, Ran was certain his legs would've given out and he would've landed in one ungraceful heap on the floor. All his muscles relaxed at once as his eyes darted back and forth between the two newly revealed cards.

There, in Crawford's hand, sat the king of spades, and his own, as innocent as could be, sat the ace of hearts.

As the repercussions of the recent events set it, the dark-haired captain carelessly dropped his card and looked up at his opponent with a leashed-in anger that threatened to break that cold demeanor.

"Your word," Ran said steadily, his violet gaze unflinching.

No response.

"Your word ... as the gentleman you claim to be," the redhead reasserted.

One's own pride was an almost unconquerable beast, and the younger captain could see his defeated opponent struggle with it in the clenching of his fists, the closing of his eyes, and finally, his nod.

Ran rose, and impartially watched the denied turmoil roil within the other man. "Before, you claimed that I had insulted your honour. From this moment onward, don't ever give me reason to doubt it."

Crawford didn't move, didn't speak, didn't make any indication to let Ran know that his words had been understood. Nevertheless, as he stood there, staring and watching, the redhead slowly became aware of his counterpart's inner struggle ... for in the sitting man, he saw the person he would've become if he hadn't had Kit's stalwart support, the distant echoes of his sister's laughter, and the enduring memory of his parents' love over the years. It was as if ... as if the older man was searching for something - searching for a purpose, a point, a meaning for the life he had lived and the life he was going to live. And as he continued to observe Crawford, Ran realized that the man was still unaware of his own quest.

"Why aren't you leaving? You've won," Crawford said, noting the redhead's immobility.

"Who are you?"

The dark-haired captain was taken aback at first by the blunt question, but slowly, he began to compose himself. A forced look of impassiveness in place, he returned the redhead's curious gaze smugly. "You wonder why I am the way I am? You wonder why I've cast myself into the role of the villain?" He paused and chuckled, the sound brittle. "Let me tell you something, ... Ran. I am no villain, only a man who has learned to take life by the reins. I fight when I'm challenged, I kill when I so desire ... and I steal when I'm stolen from. So do not try to understand me, for it will prove a fruitless task."

Ran didn't respond, the man's small tirade only reaffirming his observations.

Yes, Crawford was lost, but he didn't even realize it yet. Ken, the game, the chase ... they were nothing but false illusions to the man, mere substitutes for that undefined 'something' Crawford didn't know he was chasing.

A tiny, knowing smile spreading on his face, Ran leaned down on the desk and stared straight into that piercing golden gaze. "Then let me ask you this, Crawford," he said softly. "What are you searching for?"

That said, the redhead straightened and turned around, uncaring of the other man's reaction ... because the question he had asked could not be answered truthfully - not yet, or not ever if Crawford didn't wish to do so. Thus, his boots pounding purposefully on the wooden boards, Ran left the room, left the Valiant, and headed back toward the Redemption ... back toward Ken.

(***)

The late afternoon sun provided the perfect backdrop for the sound of carefree laughter that rang in Youji's ears. He scanned the deck, ephemeral green eyes easily finding the source good-naturedly joking with the Redemption's crew and happily helping with the sails. The blond-haired boy looked out of place amidst the crowd of burly sailors, and yet, it seemed like Omi had been working among them for years.

The young blonde never ceased to amaze him; even after everything he had been through, the boy managed to brush it all off as if it had been nothing more than a minor nuisance, demonstrating again his unbeatable spirit and resilient nature.

Youji had to shake his head at the wonders of youth. Or was it just the failings of his own character that made Omi appear so remarkable?

"Youji!"

The very object of his speculations had spotted him, and with a friendly goodbye to his new friends, the blond boy quickly made his way across the deck to the older man.

"Where are you going?" Omi asked brightly as he caught up with the taller blonde.

Youji smiled wickedly, the comfortable devilish gleam easily appearing in his eyes. "I'm going on shore and planning to make some acquaintances of the fairer sex ... preferably for the next few nights."

The youth rolled his eyes, and then, in a more serious tone, he asked, "Are you running away again?"

Youji sobered up somewhat. "No."

"So you intend to stay?"

The older man nodded, his decision made just a little while ago. "If the captain lets me," he said truthfully and without hesitation..

At this, Omi smiled a smile that outshone even the waning sun. "Good," he said happily. "Because I like it here."

(***)

The sturdy canvas of the Valiant flapped loudly throughout the docks as the sails were set at full. She sailed smoothly and proudly out of Candia's port, her captain and her crew ensconced securely within her confines, entirely oblivious of the lone figure that stood obscured in the shadows of the dying day.

After a few more moments of watching the majestic vessel, Schuldich glanced dispassionately down at the cross-shaped scar on his palm, the puckered pink flesh a souvenir of the sword he had grasped at the wrong moment, a brand that would forever remind him of his temporary lapse to a weakness that had almost cost him his life.

Never again. Those words had become his mantra these past couple of days. Never again would he stoop so low as to want, to desire ... or to trust. Never again ...

But where would he go now?

/* "Will you return one day?" */

Schuldich closed his eyes and tried to ignore the intrusive voice. He had the whole world to discover still, an infinite road of possibilities to explore ...

/* "Will you come back one day? */

And yet, those voices of the past pulled at him, dragging him back to a time when everything that should have been safe was anything but.

/* "Please, come back ... Highness ... " */

Goddamnit!

Schuldich opened his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. Perhaps he should head back, if not to see the results of his handiwork three years later, then at the very least, to destroy any survivors he might have overlooked before he'd left. Absently, he wondered if court life had changed all that much these past few years.

Resigned, he slowly turned and began to walk away, but not before he gave the distant silhouette of the only home he'd ever truly known one last look.

"Godspeed, Crawford," he whispered. "And may you one day find whatever it is you're searching for."

(***)

"Captain."

Ran straightened from his slouched position on the rail and looked over to his left. Kit walked up to stand beside his captain, his short body leaning against the wooden girder as the redhead had been doing.

"What is it, Kit? Is something wrong with the ship?" The extensive damage the Redemption had taken in her battle with the Minotaur had yet to be repaired, and whenever the first mate approached him like this, it was usually with something of import.

The older man glanced up at the captain, opened his mouth, and then closed it as if deciding against speaking.

This piqued Ran's curiosity. "Kit?"

"It's nothing," the first mate answered quickly.

The young captain sighed. That crease on the man's forehead stated otherwise. "Out with it, Kit. You may have known me since I was a babe, but you forget that it works the other way as well. I can tell when you have something on your mind."

The first mate chuckled, eyes twinkling with good humor and something akin to pride. "Ah, Ran, you've turned out to be a fine young man."

"You're avoiding the issue," the redhead said with mock sternness.

Serene smile still in place, Kit returned his gaze to the horizon and waited a few moments. Then, "I don't think I'll be going with you once you leave port."

"What?" At first, Ran had thought he'd heard wrong, but the serious look of the older man's face only reinforced what had just been said.

"I'm getting old, Ran," Kit said, neither bitterly nor angrily, but with graceful acceptance. "And I can't keep up with this life at sea much longer."

"What are you talking about? You have - "

With only a shake of his head, the first mate easily silenced the boy he had practically raised. "Listen to me, Ran," the older man soothed. "It's time I retire. The weather here is warm and this place seems to agree with my health. Besides, I promised that widowed innkeeper, Olga, that I'd help her run her inn."

Even the captain didn't miss the eager sparkle that manifested in the older man's eyes at that last statement. In fact, it was rather infectious, and before he knew it, Ran found himself smiling.

"I don't know what to say, Kit ..." he began.

"You don't need to say anything." The shorter man stood up and beamed proudly at the redhead. "I swore to your father long ago that I would look after you. Remember that day he sent us out on that lifeboat? I knew then that I wouldn't leave your side unless you were ready, and now, I think it's time. You don't need me any longer ... I think you've finally discovered yourself."

Kit paused as something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. And then, with a knowing smile, he said, "And I think you'll have someone else to take care of you now."

Ran glanced behind to see what had distracted his old friend. Ken, gait careful and movements stiff, was slowly making his way toward him. Instantly, the young captain wanted to order the brunette back to bed, but Kit's next words stopped him.

"I'll go gather my belongings, Captain," the older man said in his business voice and started to walk away. "I should be gone by tomorrow morning."

A part of Ran wanted to shout and scream like a little boy in a tantrum; he didn't want Kit to leave ... not yet, not the man who had been at his side through so many of life's trials. And yet, another part of him wanted to wish the man well, indescribably happy that his long-time friend had finally found a peaceful respite in an otherwise dangerous world.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Ran gave the departing first mate a small salute as he remembered seeing crewmen do on his father's ship. "Good luck, Kit," he said. "And thank you."

The older man stopped to give him one last warm smile, and then turned to continue on his way.

The young captain watched his first mate disappear into the crew's quarters before turning his attention back to the new arrival at his side.

"You should be in bed." His voice was commanding as usual, but it lacked the authority that it often boasted.

Ken leaned forward and rested his elbows on the rail. "I'm too restless. Besides, I think that moving around and being useful will help me much more in my recovery."

Normally, Ran would've argued until the other man submitted, but at the moment, he wasn't in the mood for it, not when there was that stubborn undertone in the brunette's voice and not after the news he'd just received from Kit. And so, he turned back to lean against the rail as well, taking in the sinking orange globe in the darkening sky. The cool evening breeze swept gently across the small bay, caressing his face and ruffling his hair as softly as a mother would her child. The moment was as close to perfection as Ran could have wanted - the open sea spreading out before him, the steadfastness of his ship floating beneath him, and the comfortable presence standing beside him. Resting there, he realized that he would've given anything to make the moment last forever.

"You know, I remember watching the sun rise with you a long time ago, and thinking it looked like a painting." Ken broke the silence, eyes not leaving the sky of dying light.

Ran's lips curled up slightly. He remembered that morning vividly; the sunrise after a storm was definitely unforgettable. "A painted ocean ..." he said tentatively, liking the imagery of the phrase. "I sometimes get that feeling too."

"The sun will go down tonight, but it'll rise again tomorrow, won't it? That's what you meant by forever ..."

The redhead heard the quietly spoken words, but knew that they required no response from him. It was Ken's revelation, and Ken's alone.

Suddenly, he realized the importance of their private meeting: this would be the idea time to tell him ... to let him know that ...

Ran closed his eyes for a moment. He had just lost Kit. Must he lose Ken as well so soon?

Yet, he knew he couldn't withhold his decision from the brunette. "You're free now," he said without preamble.

He didn't need to look to know that Ken was questioning his statement. "It's what you've always wanted, isn't it? Your freedom? You've more than repaid your debt to me - back at the Tower, and on the Minotaur." Ran stopped. The next part was going to be difficult to say. Thus, only after taking a fortifying breath did he speak on bravely. "If you wish to continue working on a ship, I can recommend you to some good captains I know ..."

This was it. This was the moment when Ken would leave him forever. Ran braced himself for the damning words.

After a short pause, the brunette nodded solemnly. "Thank you. I already have a ship in mind."

Even though he'd been prepared for Ken's decision, the powerful constriction in his chest was almost too painful to bear, but quickly hiding behind his captain's mask again, he raised an apathetic eyebrow and asked, "Which ship? Do I know her?"

"She's a privateer's ship," Ken answered without hesitation. "With a very stubborn, redheaded captain. It's just a matter of whether that captain will have me or not."

The meaning of the brunette's statement did not register with Ran until he looked down into those devilishly glinting brown eyes, teasing humor shining brightly for him to see. And, slowly, unknowingly, the redhead's mask began to crack. A smile appeared, not a small one, or a wistful one, but a real, genuine smile. "I might be able to put in a good word for you," Ran said, a teasing twinkle of his own flashing in his violet gaze. "Besides, I heard that the captain is in need of a first mate ... "

End Chapter 15

End Upon a Painted Ocean