Means to an End

Author's Note: Still suffering in present tense. This may be the last chapter before I do a half-assed attempt to make a nice transition to a more familiar tense.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Chrono Trigger.

I wake, and notice that there is someone else in the room. There’s light from a single candle and it throws enough light for me to make out a shadow of a figure, as well as the outlines of the room. No window, just a table, a chair – currently occupied – and the bed I was laying on. I can smell blood and recognize it as being my own.

No use in pretending to still be unconscious. I raise myself up slightly, trying not to care about my nakedness. I have no dignity left to preserve.

“His spells usually last for the same length of time,” a voice says dryly. Flea. “but I imagined that with your slight immunity, it would wear off sooner. I guessed right.”

Slide my feet to the side of the bed. Sit with arms wrapped around my stomach. Want to cry.

“What do you want?”

To hurt me as well?

“To repair what damage has been done.”

He stands and holds out a hand. I flinch away and I can see his gaze grow stern and disapproving.

“Why?” I ask. I can’t trust him yet.

“Because,” he says, and there’s a harsh note in his voice that makes me think he’s being honest, “I have nothing better to do. Have you any idea how boring it is around here? The other mystics are all terrified of me, being Magus’s right-hand man and all, and are far too unintelligent for decent conversation besides. Ozzie is an egomaniac, Magus spends his time either brooding or researching whatever it is he’s seeking for, and Slash and I have exhausted most of the interesting topics. You are new and therefore interesting. And Magus has decided to let you live for a time.”

“For whatever that’s worth.” I sound a lot bitterer than I had intended.

“A great deal, I’d say. Now stop sulking, get up, and follow me.”

I comply. He hands me a cloak that covers me to my knees and I follow him through the corridors to a bath. It’s larger than anything I’ve ever seen and Flea has already drawn some water and lay out some salves for my wounds. He sits and talks while I wash and I’m too numb to care about his presence anymore.

“Is Slash a mage like you?” I ask as I towel off my hair.

“Eh, not really. He’s immersed himself in the art of the sword to the same degree I’ve immersed myself into the arcane.”

I notice that he’s not really sitting, but hovering a couple inches of the ground. How long has he been doing that and why didn’t I notice earlier?

“Maybe I’ll introduce you to him. I must admit; he’s quite doubtful that you’ll prove to be any form of amusement whatsoever, but I think otherwise.”

He tilts his head and stares at me. I grow self-conscious again and wrap the towel around me.

“I brought clothing. It’s some of mine, but I’m sure you won’t mind.” He giggles and tugs at his skirt, looking more like a young girl than a powerful mystic mage at that moment. Unnerved, I go to the pile he indicates and examine it for a moment.

“Flea,” I say softly, trying to work up the nerve, “I don’t want to be some sort of diversion for you or anyone else. I want to be rid of this place, one way or another. I don’t care even if you kill me. Just….”

I cry then. I can feel my cheeks burning with shame and I take a deep breath, hold it, and that seems to slow the sobs.

“I’m sorry,” Flea says, once again devoid of emotion, “Did I leave you the impression that you had a choice? Now get dressed.”




I hated the clothing Flea brought me. It was white with pink stitching around the hem, showed too much of my (small) cleavage, too much of my stomach, and far far too much of my legs. But I said nothing and followed him to where Slash was waiting.

“Oh, you brought the human. How wonderful.” The tone is his voice was dripping with sarcasm. Obviously, it wasn’t wonderful that he brought me; in fact, from the look he shot me it appeared he’d rather test the edge of his sword on my gut.

“Be polite, she is a guest.”

“If you count what Magus did las-” He cut himself off short when Flea coughed. “Whatever.”

It was a large room arrayed not unlike a cross between a living room and a study. A couple tables were scattered about along with chairs, sofas, and even a pile of cushions in one corner. A fireplace dominated one wall, a tapestry another, and an extremely disorganized bookcase the third. A balcony was screened off with glass from the fourth wall and I could see that it was late midday through the window. Slash was near the fire, a pile of books at his feet. After looking me over once, he sniffs, rolls over on the rug and picks up his book again.

The place, quite frankly, is a mess. It appears to be much used by the two.

Flea hovers over to one of the chairs and sits cross-legged, smoothing out his skirt to cover himself. I edge closer, trying to catch a closer look at Slash. I’ve heard of him before, usually in hushed tones talking about how he’s a demon with a sword in hand. He doesn’t appear like too much at the moment, lanky with the pointed ears of his kind and a bluish-purple pallor to the skin, more like a cat in a sunbeam than the reputed legendary swordsman.

“Honestly Slash, take some interest. It’s not like we have anything else to do.” The tone in Flea’s voice makes me think that this is a sore point at the moment.

“Patience, my pink-haired friend,” Slash murmurs absently and flips another page in the book.

“She knows how to use a blade, I believe. You have received training, correct Stoat?”

“I have been taught…”

“That’s open for debate, I’m sure.” Slash still appears engrossed in his book. I frown at him but don’t make a reply to the insult.

Flea sighs dramatically and drops the final weapon to pique his friend’s interest.

“She has the same magical resistance you have.”

Slash freezes. Carefully places a bookmark and sits, finally giving me his full attention. I try not to fidget.

“In a human? I don’t believe you.”

“Now why would I lie? I felt it the first time I used magic on the brat.”

He stands, walks over to me. I barely reach his shoulder and realize that he is far more dangerous than he looks at that moment. Lazy cat turned panther. I take a few steps backwards.

“Could she be descended from Magus’s kind? Or ours?”

“Either is possible. Or perhaps we don’t understand the human race as well as we thought we did.”

“Hnn.”

He puts a hand to my chin and tilts my head, narrowing his eyes as he inspects me.

“Scrawny thing.”

“Probably hasn’t eaten in a few days.”

He shrugs in disinterest to that point and returns to his place by the fire.

“Told you she’d be interesting.” Flea was fairly purring.

“You know what Magus plans for her?”

Flea sniffs and rolls in the chair, propping his head on one arm and his legs over the other.

“Oh, I’m sure it’d be safe to assume more of the same and then he’ll dispose of her in some manner,” Flea says nonchalantly.

I swallow a sob.

“Or-” I move closer in time to see him smile and shrug. “Maybe he does have something in mind, other than keeping her as a toy.”

“Magus has stopped telling you things then,” I say and am surprised that I did so.

Flea rolls his head to look at me; Slash moves his eyes to do the same.

“Oh, my dear one, you finally caught on. How wonderful. I was beginning to think you were as dim-witted as the rest of your kind.”

“Magus has something that preoccupies him.” Slash is speaking now. “He never speaks of it, but we all can see it. Sometimes we wonder if this war means nothing to him, or is only a means to an end, as are we, and as you may be.”

“Me?”

“Small means, small end, perhaps, but something. He never keeps something he cannot use somehow.” Slash shrugs and Flea takes up the narration.

“He’s been like this since we first knew him. But it’s getting worse now and as a result, he’s being eaten up by this… thing… and we’re left in the dark as far as his plans go. Ozzie is calling a lot of the shots and while he’s far too willing to boast of his own genius, Magus is the one we’re interested in.”

I take another step closer.

“You want me to find out what he’s up to. What this ‘end’ of his is.”

“Now, I never said that. But I suppose dogs can’t be choosey about the scraps thrown to them. Run along Stoat, you are boring me and I can’t be bothered to escort you back to a cell. Far too comfortable where I’m at.”

He laughs and examines his nails. I can take a hint and start to walk to the door. As I reach for the handle, Slash’s voice stops me.

“The castle guards won’t molest you if you can bluff well enough,” he says, “but if Magus catches on… well, I’m sure things will unravel very quickly then.”

“So don’t get caught by Magus.”

“Do try. But if you are discovered, and if our names slip out, we’ll be fine, but you won’t. There will be consequences. We will exact some form of retribution.”

“I know –I’ll- enjoy it. Magical resistance or no,” Flea laughs.

“Fair warning, that’s all. Good day, Stoat.”

I swallow hard, nod, and hurry from the room and down the corridor as fast as dignity allows.