Disclaimer : I do not own Dragon Nest ._. Kamijyou and ArashiOuji belongs to their respective owners. Deidrik is mine.

Warning : Angst, Character Death, Spoiler for Cleric Lv 1 ~ 10 Story Quest, Implied BL

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The mace was a deadweight in his hands when Deidrik stepped through the simple doorway of Kamijyou’s room. With dull eyes, Deidrik took in the furnishings of the other cleric’s quarters. Flails were propped on a simple display rack at a side of the room and beside the rack stood a bookshelf where rows of books adorned each shelf. Kamijyou was, quite obviously, well read and if Deidrik were in a better disposition, he would have run awed fingers along the pristine covers of each text reverently.

On the other side of the room was the standard issue single bed assigned to each quarter. Slumped at the foot the bed was a half-opened duffel bag. The sight of it reminded Deidrik of how Jake would drape his satchel against his bed whenever he visited his room. At that thought, a familiar burn sprung up at the back of his eyes and began to spread. It sucked to be blinking back tears every time he saw something that would remind him of Jake, yet Deidrik had already lost count how many times he had done it today. Twenty? Thirty?

Beside the bed, spread out on the floor was the bedroll that Kamijyou was graciously lending him for the night. Deidrik sank on the coarse fabric, careful to hide a wince when his butt greeted the floor enthusiastically despite having the bedroll acting as intermediary. While the floor may be uncomfortably hard to sleep on, it was no worse than sleeping in caves and dungeons. Besides, Deidrik had been the one who requested to sleep over at Kamijyou’s because he couldn’t bear sleeping alone in his own room, where Jake’s memories haunted him non-stop, be it day or night. Kamijyou had kindly agreed to his unduly request and Deidrik would rather not be an ass and criticize his hospitality.

Silently, Kamijyou puttered about his room. He filled a mug of warm liquid and set it down beside Deidrik, then began to unpack his duffel of dirty clothing and unused necessities. Staring at the cleric’s hypnotic back and forth motions, it occurred to Deidrik that it had only been the previous day that he and Kamijyou had returned from Marian’s Shrine with a dead Jake in tow. They were both in a sorry state, though Deidrik didn’t know who had been worse. Kamijyou had been the one to lug Jake’s corpse through the freezing plains back to town, but Deidrik had been weighed down by the emotional baggage of Jake’s betrayal.

Deidrik could barely remember much of yesterday beyond that.. incident. He could remember entering a hall within Marian’s Shrine and seeing the crimson red clad Dragon Follower standing in the middle of the room. He remembered thinking that the figure seemed somewhat familiar, yet the reason why eluded him. They fought briefly, Kamijyou rounding on the goblin shamans that flanked the Dragon Follower while Deidrik took on their leader.

Then the heretic raised his mace and sent a holy bolt his way. Dismayed at the heretic using their Brotherhood’s spell, Deidrik dodged too late and was caught by the pulse. While his body seized from the paralyzing bolt, the Dragon Follower dashed forward, his mace upraised. It would have connected with Deidrik’s temple if Kamijyou had not hammered the side of the aggressor’s skull with his flail.

Right in front of Deidrik, the mask cracked and fell off, revealing the Dragon Follower’s identity.

Jake.

Something crashed, then another. Deidrik figured it was himself following Jake’s trajectory to the floor, because suddenly Jake’s trembling fingers were enclosed around his arm. Jake opened his mouth and it was difficult to watch him attempt at speech. Free flowing blood stained his tongue and lips and he spat them out once, twice, before his words made themselves heard.

“I’m.. sorry, Dei.. drik.. It was.. my.. des.. tiny..”

The hand slipped. Then fell. And everything fragmented.

Jake’s funeral, which had begun this morning and lasted till mid-day, was nothing but a blur. For most of the morning, there was only an all-consuming rage that enveloped him as he clenched at Jake’s mace and threw question after question, demand after demand at the lone, simple headstone that couldn’t possibly answer him.

When the rage eventually burned out, the reality that Jake was permanently and irrevocably gone sank in.

His mentor, lover, friend, comrade, Brother. A Dragon Follower. Dead. Gone.

Something vicious tugged hard in the middle of his chest cavity. Like a blackhole, it sucked at his being, draining warmth from his extremities and chilling him far faster than snow in Mana Ridge could. His heart contracted achingly painfully, and each shuddering breath hurt to take in. Everywhere hurt, his chest, his throat, his limbs, his neck, even his head throbbed in anguish and heartbreak. Giddiness followed and if Kamijyou had not been by his side, a steady hand supporting his shaking body, he might have fallen to the ground and not noticed it one bit.

Unbidden hot tears spilled down his cheeks, chilling his skin in their wake, and sobs wrenched themselves out of him, forcing him to gasp heaving breathes lest he choke. His voice tore their way out of his throat eventually. No more than formless words, they were raw sound of agony that he could not– did not extinguish. Later, Deidrik would lament his actions. He had acted like a child, had forgotten restraint and wept like a baby in public. Yet with each tear and each breath, the unbearable hurt, loss, despair seemed to lighten imperceptibly.

Kamijyou never said a thing. Just stood there and held him up while he broke down, until the tears finally subsided and the sobs were reduced to hiccups. Dully, Deidrik had thought he might hate the other cleric for the murder of Jake, but he knew that he couldn’t. Kamijyou had done nothing wrong. He had even saved him, when Jake had been all set to kill him at the Shrine.

Except that thought, that Jake had known it was him and hadn’t stopped, felt like rubbing salt to that gaping wound in Deidrik’s chest.

By the time he was cognizant enough to notice his surroundings, Deidrik had been herded into a bathroom stall, a bundle of clothes he couldn’t remember retrieving from his room cradled in his arms and Jake’s mace resting against his palm, clutched by stiff fingers.

Bathing was a mechanical affair. The water was perhaps too hot, maybe even scalding, but Deidrik barely felt its warmth. The clothes were a tad too large to be his own, Kamijyou must have lent him his.

The other cleric was leaning against the wall in the laundry area when Deidrik exited his stall. He was clad in a similar white sleeveless tunic and brown pants, his hair tousled from–

“Brother Thomas has tasked us with an investigation in Marian’s Shrine.” Deidrik blinked up slowly. Kamijyou stared back at him solemnly from where he sat on his bed, his feet bare against the chilly stone tiles. Deidrik looked sidewards and saw Kamijyou’s boots lined properly beside his duffel bag, he must be turning in now. Which meant that Deidrik had been zoned out for.. how long?

“I can delegate the investigation to ArashiOuji if you do not feel up to it.” Kamijyou continued.

“What are we investigating?” Deidrik asked. Which was odd, since Kamijyou usually told him without his needing to ask. It seemed as though the other cleric was skirting the issue.

Heaving a sigh that Deidrik suspected to be resignation, Kamijyou said. “Brother Thomas believes that Cleric Jake was not operating alone. There is a high possibility that his accomplice, if he exists, will revisit Marian’s Shrine.”

Deidrik frowned down at the mace in his hands. Its make is familiar to him. He had run his fingers over every crease and every groove on it. It was an eleven tiered mace that he had enhanced himself. He hadn’t dared to enhance it further for fear that it might break in the process. Some weeks ago, he had gifted it to Jake. Now, it sat back in his hands.

He was still out of it, he knew. He needed time to cope with Jake’s betrayal and death. In his state, he would not be able to provide the support that Kamijyou needed. Yet, he wanted to go. If such an accomplice existed, he needed to know. Secondhand news was not enough, he needed to see him, her, it, whatever, himself.

Deidrik chewed on a lip, then decided. “Let me think about it.”

“Tell me your decision tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you.” Deidrik breathed, grateful (not for the first time) that he had been assigned a considerate partner.

“Goodnight, Deidrik.” Kamijyou whispered, then turned away to lie on his bed.

Echoing his own goodnight, Deidrik retrieved a vial from a pant pocket. He had never been one to take a sleeping draught, but Deidrik had heard that nightmares were vicious things on nights like this. Removing the vial’s lid with one hand, Deidrik gulped the potion down, washed it down with the warm drink Kamijyou had given him, laid down on the bedroll and prayed to the Goddess for dreamless sleep.

-End-