BlackHeart Biohazards

Lost and Found (1138 words) by thesavagesabretooth

summary: After being captured and savagely beaten, Zelgadis finds himself tended to by the most unexpected rescuer imaginable– Copy Rezo.

–

Zelgadis’ shoulders ached worse even than the rest of his body as they bore the brunt of his weight, chained by his wrists and hanging by the arms from the ceiling in the dank, echoing stone chamber. 

His shirt had been ripped off, and when he could focus well enough to see, he could see the dark blue blood dripping from the smashed stones embedded in his body. They had beaten him with hammers and spiked maces until he’d been unable to resist– until he’d been unable to stay conscious.

He’d awoken here, in the black stone cell, surrounded by faceless armored guards who said nothing. He’d tried to summon his magic to escape, but he had no reserves of energy to draw from.He’d had no idea how much blood he lost, but it seemed like a lot. He kept drifting in and out of wakefulness, with no idea how much time had passed.

Zelgadis was starting to accept that he was going to die there. Alone. Slowly losing track of the pain that wrecked his beaten body.

At some point a flash of light from the darkness drew his attention. There were screams. Lina? Maybe it was Lina.

The flashes got closer and the roar of spells, and the screams of the guards– who apparently could speak if they wanted– split the silence.

He might have lost consciousness again.

The next thing he knew there was a tall figure in white robes standing beside him, and the weight was off his arms. The figure had cut him down, and was holding him.

Zegladis’ eyes tried to focus. Deep red hair. A long, sharp face. Refined features. A wide mouth.

A familiar face.

“Rezo?” he mouthed.

Zelgadis realized that he must have died. That was the only way that Rezo could be there, holding him in his arms. Zelgadis had died, and it was Rezo who had come for his soul.

Of course.

But the figure shook his head, and shifted Zelgadis in his arms to pull off the scarf that covered his forehead. There was a bright jewel embedded there.

Not Rezo. Copy Rezo.

But he was dead, too.

“How–” Zelgadis began. He stopped and asked the more pertinent question. “Are we dead?”

“Not quite.” Copy Rezo was carrying home somewhere, through the darkness. Quite a feat, considering how heavy Zelgadis was. Maybe it was a spell. “Though you were getting close when I finally found you.”

“How are you here?” Zelgadis rasped, the world spinning around him. “How are you alive?”

“I’ll tell you later. Sleep now. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Copy raised his hand again, and there was a familiar light. Zelgadis had only enough time to register it as a sleep spell before it worked on him.

–

Zelgadis woke up in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, with no idea how much time had passed. The only clue was that his body still ached and throbbed. He reached down, wincing as he did, and peeked under the covers. His arms and torso had all been bandaged up.

Someone had actually rescued him. His heart thumped painfully in his chest. But was it really who it had seemed to be? Or had that been some kind of hallucination.

Zelgadis craned his neck painfully to look around the room– a small, sparsely decorated cottage with stone and wood walls, and a small hearth.

Standing by the hearth, apparently making tea, was that same out of place familiar figure.

Rezo– or rather Copy Rezo– turned toward him with an exasperated expression.

“Don’t strain yourself, or you’ll undo all the work I did,” Copy instructed. He watched him with narrowed eyes, but there was a slight curl of amusement at the edge of his lips. “There’s a healing spell in your future, but we have to wait until the venom on those weapons they were using wears off or it’ll only make it worse.”

The instructions barely made it through Zelgadis’ battered skull. All he could manage was to again repeat what he’d asked before in the dank chasm.

“How are you here?”

Copy shook his head, pouring tea from a large iron pot on the hearth into a small earthenware cup and bringing it to the bedside.

“It’s almost as mysterious to me as it is to you. After Flagoon, I woke up some time later in what must have been another Copy body, in an old lab. How my memories came to reside in this shell, I don’t know. I try not to ask the question.”

“Fair enough.”

“Can you sit?” Copy asked.

“Maybe.” Zelgadis carefully gathered his strength, and sat up a little in the bed. Copy offered him the cup of tea and he took it, sipping it quietly. If Copy was telling the truth, he wouldn’t want to contemplate the implications either.

“If you’re wondering how I came to find you, the answer is complicated I’m afraid,” Copy continued. “You should focus on healing first. Your friends are on their way, but it will take them several days to get here.”

“We were separated,” Zelgadis grimaced. He sipped the tea again. It had a nostalgic flavor. The same way his grandfather had made it when Zelgadis was a small child.

“Indeed." 

Zelgadis’ gaze met Copy’s unsettling eyes again and he looked away. It was so strange, to see his grandfather’s face, with his eyes open.

"So you have time to tell me what happened,” he urged.

“Soon enough. Rest first.” Copy put a long fingered hand on Zelgadis’ face, and Zel flinched at the touch.

“Please don’t put me to sleep again.”

“Rest, then. And I won’t have to.” Copy leaned down, and his forehead rested gently against Zelgadis’.

Zelgadis felt his own breath shuddering in his chest as he let the man’s forehead touch his own. He felt the little jewel embedded there brush against the stones in his own skin. Both of them owed their whole existence to the same man who’d hurt them both so terribly.

“You remember all his memories, don’t you?” Zelgadis asked softly, their faces close.

“I do.” Those eyes peered at him again, and Zelgadis shivered.

“Will you sing to me then?” Zelgadis asked, his cheeks flushing. “Like he did? …Is it cruel to ask you for that?”

“No,” Copy sighed softly. He cupped Zelgadis’ cheek in his hand. “No, it isn’t cruel.”

Copy pressed a soft kiss to Zelgadis’ temple, and the chimera felt a deep ache in his chest that had nothing to do with his wounds.

He was silent, not knowing what to say as Copy sat down on the edge of the bed and started to sing for him, a nostalgic song that Zel had stopped hearing many years ago.

It was as comforting as it was sad.