The characters of Sailor Moon belong to whoever they do. I just hope they
don't come hunting any fingers for my unauthorized use of them.
I apologize now for any misspelled words or any gross errors of grammar
or diction. I'm still waiting for a word processor who knows what I
meant to say, not what I actually typed.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Magic and Mayhem
a division of
Entropy Inc.
(also known as Maintenance)
The Bermuda Triangle Branch
presents


The Ballad of Zoe and Malachite
a Lemon just for the hell of it!

by Windlily


	Zocite rapped once on the door to Malachite's inner chamber, turned
the handle and pushed the door open without waiting for a response, full of
pleased excitement. He had accomplished the task Malachite had set for him.
Done so quickly and easily. Malachite would be so pleased! The sight that
met his eyes sent him from soaring joy into breath stealing despair as
Malachite's hard, steel gray glare raked over him, the furred and tiger
striped female straddling him totally ignoring him as she continued to move
herself in a slow rock, up and down, rising so that Zocite could see almost
all of Malachites hard length, then bringing herself back down slowly,
purring as Malachites strong hands continued to knead at her breasts.

	"Out and wait," Malachite hissed at him.

	"Um, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt," he dropped his eyes
and shut the door quickly, his heart hammering in his chest as he wished he
could leave.

	But Malachite had said to wait so he had no choice now. The Queen
had put him under Malachites watchful eye and tutelage when he had awoken,
confused and with no clear memory of who or what he was. Newborn. High
Youma. Those where the murmurs that had gone through the assembly behind
him as The Queen had taken his chin between her fingers as he knelt before
her throne, the other three High Youma kneeling behind him and given him
his name. Zocite. Then she had bid him rise and turn toward the Youma court.

	It had been frightening, seeing all those strange and monstrously
beautiful forms staring back at him. Except for the three who knelt before
them all. Those three had caught his attention as soon as he could jerk his
eyes off of the Youma. Jadite, whom he hadn't seen much of since, that one
busy in that other plane called Earth, Nephlyte with his beautiful auburn
hair and soul as cold as the space that surrounded the stars he so loved.
And Malachite. Handsome Malachite with his silver hair and grey eyes.
Malachite who haunted his dreams, dreams which brought him awake in the
middle of the night with his body quivering at the edge of passion, passion
which he had to release alone.

	He fled to the farthest corner away from that door, leaned his
forehead against the cold stone and wrapped his arms across his chest in a
forlorn hug as he willed himself not to hear the sounds of Malachite and
the females passion as it reached it's peak. To no avail. He was shaking.

	*Get ahold of yourself, Zoe!* he snarled as he took a deep breath
and straightened.

	Malachite had no interest in him. He knew it as he knew how to draw
breath. But he wanted him so badly it hurt. He forced himself to go and
look at the reports that hovered around Mal's worktable, concentrated on
how to help his mentor deal with the trivial demands on his time. He had
figured out two solutions to the troublesome spat that had been raging
between the Aeries of the Wastes and the Vesper Clan that shared territory
when the female came out and shut the door behind her.

	"He wants to see you now," she emphasized that last word.

	Zoe nodded as she crossed to the outer door, wanting her gone
before he went to report to Malachite. She turned right before the door and
looked at him with her slit pupiled eyes, gave an evil grin.

	"He has no interest in boys you know, Lord Zocit," she purred, then
was through the door.

	That shocked him and he stared after her dumbfounded. Was he so
obvious? He narrowed his eyes and sent an accident after her. Something wet
and uncomfortable, he willed into the power that flowed out of him and went
hunting. Then he went and knocked on that inner door again, this time
waiting for his Mentor's summons.

	"Come," Malachites strong tenor voice summoned.

	He opened the door, stood in parade rest, as was respectful for a
lower Youma when reporting to a higher one. Malachite had on his pants and
boots but his top half was still naked as he stood with his broad and well
muscled back angled to a mirror, trying to get a good look at the set of
four scratches that ran up either side of his spine. Zoe dropped his eyes
once more, hoped his blush wasn't too noticeable.

	"Well?" Malachite snapped. He really had to start choosing lovers
with less damaging body configurations.

	"I found out about Nephlyte, as you asked, Sir."

	"And?" Malachite pulled on his shirt, then shrugged his uniform top
on over it, wincing a little as the fabric pressed on the scratches.

	But it had been worth it. Chandra was a fun bedmate. As long as she
kept her claws sheathed. He'd sent her packing with the threat that if she
clawed him again, he'd declaw her himself.

	"He was at Mender's House, as you had thought."

	Malachite nodded. "And do you know why?"

	That was the piece of information he wanted. He had trained
Nephlyte as he had Jadite before him and was now training this beautiful
Newborn. That Nephlyte had gotten himself damaged enough to have to flee to
Menders House was a slap to his pride.

	"He tried to ride Shadow-spawn again," Zocite informed him.

	Malachite growled, looked at his student for the first time since
he'd re-entered the room. Zocite's blue eyes glittered with internal
amusement. By the Dark Presence Itself, he was a beauty. Too bad he wasn't
female.

	"And did he succeed?"

	"They say he rode farther than you did, Sir."

	Malachite frowned and crossed his arms. Ah, Nephlyte. Still trying
to outdo your Master. Stupid youma. I won't be outdone. You should know
that by now.

	"How far," he bit out.

	"Twenty-five feet, Sir. Before he was thrown and trampled. The
youma who went with him to witness barely got him to Mender's House in
time, they say."

	"Not bad," Malachite muttered grudgingly.

	That was ten feet farther than he had managed to stick to that
youma's back. But then, he also came away unscathed. The first to ever do
so. He wondered if his luck would still hold. He couldn't let Nephlyte get
the better of him in anything. It would lessen his standing in the Queen's
eyes and he wouldn't have that. So it was once again time to ride
Shadow-spawn.

	"Come with me," he beckoned with a forefinger as he strode past
Zocite and through his workroom.

	Zoe fell into place a little behind him, wondered what his Mentor
was up to. Malachite went to the courtyard, stood with his hands on his
hips, so very king like, Zoe thought and bellowed out three names. The
youma he summoned came and bowed before him.

	"You will bear witness for me."

	They all nodded, stayed bent as Malachite summoned the Gate. They
stepped through into the far Eastern Wilds of the Dark Kingdom, the youma
Malachite brought with them rising to hover out of the way as Malachite
cast a ward around each, rendering them invisible and undetectable to any
but himself. Zoe watched that casting closely, committing it to memory.
That might come in very handy.

	"Zocite, I want you to stand right here," Malachite led him into a
large, grass filled hollow between the trees.

	"When Shadow-spawn shows, wait till I get on him, then get out of
the way."

	"I'm the bait?" Zoe asked with a little squeak on the 't'.

	Malachite smiled at him. "Don't worry, Zocite. I won't let him hurt
you. You just get out of the way and stay out of the way. Understand?"

	Zoe nodded. But 'bait'? That was crazy. Shadow-spawn was nothing to
mess with. He had no desire at all to be anywhere near that insane thing of
shadows.

	Malachite saw the terror in Zocite's eyes and his hand went to his
shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze before he had quite realized what
he'd done.

	"Don't worry. I won't let him hurt you," he found himself surprised
that he meant it.

	The adoration that filled Zocite's eyes startled him and he moved
his hand off of his shoulder quickly. He had seen it more and more
recently, that loving look when he would say some small word of praise.
Something fluttered in his memory, something stirred in him, uncomfortable.
He again had the fleeting wish that this beautiful young youma was female.
But he wasn't and he had no desire for male flesh. He didn't know that the
small jewel that Beryl had placed in his brain, the jewel that had given
him his name, whispered this will of his Queen into his soul.

	*I have no desire for male flesh,* he told himself this again, firmly.

	Zocite had to learn that survival here was of the strongest, the
most devious, the most cruel. There was no place for gentleness, for
adoration. Even in sex the youma where vicious and it was to them as much a
game of power plays as of rough and dark pleasures. And it was his duty to
teach him such things. This misplaced emotion on the Newborn's part had to
be dealt with and as harshly as possible.

	Zoe's heart fluttered when Malachite put his hand on his shoulder
and that little squeeze sent a shock throughout his whole frame. For a
moment, just a moment, there was something in his Mentor's eyes,
something... Then Malachite's eyes clouded silver and he shook his head and
closed his eyes as his hand jerked away from him as if shocked. When he
opened them again, there was nothing but the aloof scorn that was always in
them, yet Malachite reached out and took his chin gently in his hand and
tipped his face up. Dare he hope?

	"Such a shame that this beautiful face is wasted on a boy. I know
you love me and I don't care," he said it softly and sweetly and it was all
the more cruel.

	"This shell of flesh you inhabit is repugnant to me. You are
nothing more than a tool of my Queen's that I am shaping at her request.
And it is my duty to keep you safe until you can fend for  yourself. So
love me if you choose, but know this is the truth."

	Zoe stood frozen, unable to think, to move, to breathe as
Malachite's harsh statement rolled over him. Tears sprang into his eyes.

	*Bastard! I hate you!*

	"Tears?" Malachite's voice dripped disapproval.

	Zoe didn't care.

	"High Youma don't cry."

	With that, he slapped him hard enough to send him to the ground.

	"Stay there and don't move until I'm on Shadow-spawns back. Then do
as you were told," Malachite's voice was as hard and cold as the winds off
the ice plains of the Northern Plateaus.

	Zoe huddled into a misery filled knot on his knees, one hand on the
stinging red mark on his cheek as he tried not to sob out loud with fury
and, Dark Presence Itself, love still. It was part of his being, a part he
couldn't deny, no matter how hard he wanted to. But Darkness Itself, he was
so angry and so betrayed that he wished with all his being that
Shadow-spawn stomped Malachite into the ground.

	Something, something was here...he looked up and around slowly,
trying to see into the shadows of the trees. He had a split second to
wonder where Malachite had hidden himself then he saw the youma named
Shadow-spawn. They stared at each other, Shadow-spawns white on white eyes
like glowing stars pinning him in place in outright terror. This was
Shadow-spawn, youma killer. His name was whispered like Mender's by the
Lesser youma. The Queen was know to send those who displeased her to die
under his hooves. Then a dark shadow dropped out of the branches and landed
on his broad back. Shadow-spawn screamed in fury as he reared up on his
back legs and then began twisting bucks, snorting great clouds of steam as
Zoe scrabbled backwards for the safety of the trees.

	*Stop panicking!* he screamed at himself as he made it to his feet.

	He concentrated, rose fifteen feet into the air and hovered, taking
himself out of the way as Malachite had commanded.

	Malachite gripped with his legs and wished for a saddle as he
tangled his fingers in the silken mane and held on. Five more feet. He
kicked the youma making it jump forwards on it's back feet then it spun,
the steam from it's breath burning his face as he passed through it. Come
on, Shadow-spawn, two more feet...he laughed in sheer delight as the youma
bucked twice more, taking him past his goal. Now, to get off. Shadow-spawn
reared once more and Malachite let go, floated backwards as he summoned a
Gate.

	Shadow-spawn was faster. He spun and his hoof caught him on the
left shoulder as the Gate crackled into being, then crackled out half
formed as that hoof slammed him to the ground. He hit hard, his head
bouncing with teeth jarring force off the hard earth as he heard, more than
felt that hoof burn it's impression into his skin. Then he felt it but
couldn't get any air into his flattened lungs to curse as it start going
deeper, couldn't focus any of his power past the ringing that clouded his
mind and the white sparks that danced before his eyes. White sparks that
resolved into white on white eyes as Shadow-spawn snaked his head down
towards his neck, fangs bared to feed. No trampling for him. Shadow-spawn
wanted to suck the life out of him, slowly.

	*NO!*

	He blocked the youma's bite with his right forearm, bit through his
lower lip as the fangs hit bone and agony radiated through him followed
instantly by the paralysis that Shadow-spawns poison filled fangs brought
his victims.

	Zoe watched as his mentor clung to the back of the furious youma,
silver hair mixing with black mane, Malachite's face full of fierce joy.

	*Hurt him, Shadow-spawn! Hurt him as he just hurt me!* he wished
the shadow horse.

	His lips curled in a cold smile as Malachite let go and floated
backwards and Shadow-spawn whirled and took him to the ground under one
plate sized hoof.

	*Good. Stomp him good!*

	It happened so fast...yet seemed to go on forever. He had no doubts
that Malachite would simply Gate out from under Shadow-spawns attack as
soon as he caught his breath. Zoe waited for Malachite to re-summon the
Gate.

	*Why doesn't he just summon a Gate?*

	His smile faded and he brought his hand to his mouth and chewed on
the side of his thumb as he watched the youma shift his weight forwards
onto the hoof that pinned Malachite to the ground.

	*Summon a Gate!* he growled mentally as a small germ of fear
started in his mind.

	His sea blue eyes widened in horror as he watched Malachite bring
up his arm to block the youma's bite, then go limp.

	*Oh no! Did I do that?*

	He had wished pain on Malachite. *Oh, Darkness! What have I done?*

	He froze for an instant, his thoughts chaos itself as he tried to
figure out what to do. The youma that Malachite had brought with them would
not interfere unless Malachite managed to get outside of the area that
Shadow-spawn defended. That was the rule of this game. They were there only
to bare witness. They would take Malachite to Mender, if he got away, or
carry the news of his death back, if he not.

	Shadow-spawn spat out Malachite's arm, snorted then moved his
muzzle slowly back towards the juncture of Malachite's neck and shoulder.
Zoe knew what he had to do. It was dangerous, but he would not let
Malachite die. He gathered his power as he sped through the air until he
was facing the youma head on, then threw it in Shadow-spawns face. He
summoned the Gate as he dove into the space the startled youma made as he
reared up and wrapped his arms around Malachite's limp form. He closed his
eyes and prayed to the Dark Presence Itself as the Gate opened on the
ground under them.

	*Please, not in the ground. Don't let us un-Gate in the ground...*
that prayer was interrupted as he gasped in pain as the youma's hooves
connected with his back as they slid through.

	Zoe bit back his moan as they dropped with a little jar the few
inches to the floor of Malachite's inner chamber. His back was throbbing
and on fire. He curled over Malachite's unconscious body and willed the
pain away. He had to tend to Malachite.

	*Please, don't be hurt enough that I have to take you to Mender's
House!* He straightened up, wincing but focused on the pale form across his
knees.

	The damage wasn't as bad as he had first feared, thank the Dark
Presence Itself as he sat on the bed next to Malachite's sleeping form.
Painful, but nothing that wouldn't mend on it's own. He reached out,
intending to brush a stray lock of that silver hair away from Malachite's
strong features, then stopped, his fingers a whisper away from touching
him. He drew them back with a sigh. He knew he had to harden his heart
against this High Youma if he was going to survive. But it was so hard and
a small part of him whispered that he would rather die than live without
him. A small part Zoe was going to have to figure out how to silence.

	*Later,* he told himself with a self-recriminating smile as
Malachite tossed his head from side to side and muttered.

	The fever was coming on him. Zoe dipped the cloth into the cold
water and placed it over Malachites forehead and held it there as he
murmured nonsense words in a soothing tone. He had ferreted out all the
information known on Shadow-spawn as soon as he had heard about that youma.
That's what he was good at, finding out. He knew that Shadow-spawns venom
would burn itself out in a nights time, but he would have to keep a close
watch on him to make sure that he kept breathing. That was the biggest
danger, that the venom would find it way to the lungs or heart. But
Malachite was strong. Stronger than any youma in the Dark Kingdom, second
only to the Queen herself. He would survive. He, Zocite, would make sure of
that.


	Malachite half remembered strong arms wrapping around his chest and
a flash of golden hair and fear-filled yet determined eyes, blue as the
deepest oceans as he floated up from the nightmare filled place he had
been. Someone was shaking his shoulder insistently. What had happened?
Shadow-spawn!!! Shadow-spawn was going to feed on him! He struck out as he
opened his eyes, still half in that place between dreams and reality, saw
Zocite duck under his wild blow. Zocite? What was he doing here?

	"What?" he mumbled, his mouth cotton dry and his head pounding,
making the formation of words difficult.

	"Malachite, Sir. You must wake up. The Queen has summoned you,"
Zocite informed him, standing well out of his physical strike range.

	"The Queen? Why?"

	He tried to get some moisture into his mouth as he quickly pushed
himself up with both hands and immediately wished he hadn't as his wounded
shoulder and opposing forearm protested with a wave of pain that sent him
back down to the mattress with a groan. Zocite took a stuttering step
forwards towards the bed as Malachite sagged back, then stopped himself.
Malachite wouldn't want or accept his help.

	"I don't know, Sir," he answered as he clasped his hands behind him
to keep them from reaching out to his mentors need.

	Malachite remembered. He had gone to ride Shadow-spawn. Again the
impression of strong arms and blue eyes. Zocite had saved him? He looked at
the neat bandage wound around his forearm, flexed his fingers to test it's
tightness and how much damage had been done. He narrowed is eyes as pain
rode up his arm, but he would not give voice to it again in Zocite's
hearing. He had been bitten there. Poisoned. He forced his arm to move,
bringing his hand up to explore the pad over his throbbing shoulder. Praise
the Darkness Itself that no bones had been broken. How much time had he
lost? He was more judicious this time with his rising, rolling to his side
and bringing his legs over the edge of the bed, letting their momentum help
pull his torso upright. He closed his eyes against the overpowering throb
of the headache and the wave of dizziness and weakness that came with that
movement.

	Zocite moved this time as Malachite listed enough to threaten a
slide off the edge of the bed. He caught his undamaged shoulder and pushed
him back upright, then removed his hand quickly and stepped back again as
Malachite's eyes snapped back open to glare at him.

	"How long was I out?" he snarled as Zocite fled back, his light
touch that had kept him from falling over gone almost before he had
realized it was there as he took a good look at his student for the first
time.

	"Two days, Sir," Zoe looked at the floor, unwilling to met that
cold stare.

	Two days? And Zocite, besotted idiot that he was had obviously
stood guard over him that whole time from the exhaustion that was apparent
in every line of his face and bearing as the young youma turned and
collected a mug from the chest that stood by his bed and offered it to him.

	"Here. Drink this. You're going to need it, I think."

	He took it from him, sipped the warm, salty and bitter brew, his
thoughts troubled as the look in his eyes as he watched as Zocite went and
pulled clothing out of the wardrobe. Why? Malachite didn't understand why.
He understood lust, but this loyalty, he knew no other word for it, was
something he did not. He had done nothing to earn it, had done almost
everything in his power to discourage it. Youma, High or Low were loyal to
nothing but their Queen and their own quest for power and survival. A bed
mate one night might be the one to try and kill you the next and never give
it a second thought. He had done so himself. Why was this Newborn so
different? So stubborn in accepting this fact of life? He was going to get
himself killed. He studied Zocite as he came back with his uniform draped
over one arm, his boots in the other hand. Beautiful Zocite gone forever.
Why did that thought make his chest tighten and fill him with such
distress? The pain in his head roared and he almost lost his grip on the
cup.

	Zocite tossed the clothing on the bed and was at his side in a
blink, one hand going to the cup as the other steadied him by his good
shoulder once again. It was as if an electric shock went through him as
Zocite's fingers closed around his own and he froze for a second. Thoughts
went through his mind. Forbidden thoughts of how those fingers would feel
in a gentle caress, if those lips would be as soft as they looked, if that
body would fit well against his own...

	"Don't touch me," he hissed and jerked his hands away, sending the
cup to crash between Zocite's feet on the floor.

	Zocite backed off as Malachite swayed, hands going out to both
sides to grip the sheets there, eyes clenched shut tight.

	*He can't even stand my touch. Darkness help me. What am I going to
do?* Zoe wailed to himself even as he narrowed his eyes and forced an
coldness equal to Malachite's into his voice and eyes.

	Right here at this moment he would close his heart to Malachite
forever. Darkness help him. He was going to try.

	"Sir. You need to dress. The Queen has summoned you. She will be
annoyed if you keep her waiting too long."

	"Leave. Wait in the workroom and close the door. I'll be out in a
moment," Malachite commanded as the headache threatened to take him back
into the darkness of unconsciousness.

	Zocite bowed and stalked out of the room. Malachite pressed the
palms of his hands against his eyes, trying to will those disturbing images
of Zocite away. Why? Why was this happening? There was an audible snap in
his head. His body jerked and the headache was gone. Just like that. He
sighed in relief and sagged. His eyes started to slide shut, he was so
tired, then he shook himself. He had to go to Beryl. The pain of his arm
and shoulder, which had been totally overshadowed by the headache
reasserted itself as he reached for the clothing Zocite had unceremoniously
dropped on the bed in that injudicious grab to save him from yet another
spill. Yet it was fading to tolerable levels as the herb filled potion took
effect.

	Zocite. There was something that he had been thinking about
Zocite... He shook his head. Whatever it was, it was gone and he was too
tired and hurt to dredge up what it had been and right now and he needed to
focus his scattered thoughts and remaining energies on surviving the coming
encounter with his Queen. Two days. He knew why Beryl had summoned him. He
cursed himself for being so arrogant. He should have gotten that project
done and submitted before he had gone off for his joy ride. He struggled
into his uniform, forgoing the undershirt and forced himself to his feet
and growled with pain as he fumbled to close it over his wounded shoulder
as he headed for the door to his workroom. Zocite was sitting in his
favorite chair at his worktable, insolent Newborn, waiting as he had been
bidden. Malachite scowled at him, smiled mentally as Zocite returned his
hard look with one of his own instead of the fawning jump out of the chair
that he was expecting. Good. The youma was learning.

	"Go get some rest."

	Zocite shrugged, kept his expression neutral. He knew that
Malachite was on his feet by the sheer force of his will. The fever had
wracked him for twelve hours and Zoe had just been about to take him to
Mender when it finally broke. He wanted to say, be careful. Come back to me
safely. But he would not. Not to Malachite who hated him with as much
intensity as Zoe loved. He watched as Malachite frowned and focused, having
trouble calling the Gate that he normally formed without conscious thought
and stepped through.

	He brought his thumb to his mouth and chewed on it, leaned back
into the chair, then straightened quickly with a hiss as those hoof prints
reminded him that they were there. He'd need to have someone take a look at
them, wondered who he trusted enough to do so. There was that red female
who had been trying to seduce him, get in tight with the new High Youma.
Maybe. He got up and wandered around the room, considered going to his own.
He was exhausted. But he wanted to wait and make sure that Malachite got
through this interview with The Queen. Then he wondered why he should.
Hadn't he just sworn to himself that he would no longer moon after
Malachite? He had, but he waited anyway. He wandered some more, worried
until he couldn't stand it anymore. He summoned a shadow from the throne
room to see what was happening. If Malachite detected it, he would be
furious, but he just had to know.

	Malachite was relieved for once to sink down to his knee in the
position of respect as he waited with a bowed head in front of the Queens
throne. And it actually made the bite wound not ache quite so much to have
it up and across his chest in the gesture of submission. He thanked the
Dark Presence Itself that it was the other shoulder that had been damaged.
He didn't think he'd be able to hold this position if it had been the other
way around. Finally the Queen acknowledge him after making him wait three
times longer than he had made her. He knew this and used it to rest and
gather his energy.

	"Malachite."

	"My Queen."

	"I am pleased with the solution you proposed for the Aeries/Vespers
problem. You will put it into action as soon as possible," she said without
looking up.

	Malachite's head snapped up in shock. How? He hadn't finished it
before he had so foolishly rushed off to ride that stupid youma.

	"I am glad it met with your approval, my Queen."

	He dropped his head quickly, his thoughts flying as he tried to
figure out what was going on. Zocite? Zocite had finished it for him? It
had to be. But why had the Queen summoned him? Surely not to just tell him
that she was pleased with this?

	"Yes, I'm sure you are," Beryl answered sweetly, finally gracing
him with her gaze. "Zocite came and presented it to me with your
compliments. I heard you went riding. Did you have fun?"

	There it was. What wild rumors had been circulating while he lay
unconscious?

	"Yes, my Queen. Shadow-spawn is always an exhilarating experience."

	"I heard that you were hurt. Badly," she leaned an elbow on the arm
of her throne and rested her chin in her hand.

	"An exaggeration, my Queen. As you see, I am fit."

	What was she after?

	"Yes, so I see. And you came away unscathed once more?"

	"No, my Queen. I was hurt."

	"Ah, I see. Rumors were flying as they always are.  It pleases me
that you are less damaged than was reported. Leave me," she dismissed him
with a flick of her finger.

	He tried to call a Gate, not trusting his legs to support him if he
tried to rise. He was surprised when one opened beneath him. He had not
succeeded in that casting. It left him in his workroom, Zocite still
sitting in his chair with that cold look in his eyes. It contradicted what
had just happened. That Gate was Zocite's. He didn't understand the
feelings that muddled his exhausted mind as he locked eyes with his
student. Zocite had cast that Gate so well that not even the Queen had
noticed it wasn't his.

	"I thought I told you to go and get some rest," he said wearily as
he tried to push himself to his feet.

	Zocite shrugged, watched as Malachite struggled to rise. He
wouldn't help him unless he asked. He wouldn't. On the third failed
attempt, his resolve failed him and he went to stand in front of Malachite,
offered his hand. It was a compromise. If Malachite refused it, he would
just leave him here on the floor and good riddance.

	Malachite looked at that offered hand, wished Zocite would just go
away and leave him to slump over into unconsciousness right here on the
floor. He was so tired and the pain from his wounds was winding up into a
keen shriek again. Then he looked up into those blue eyes expecting to see
malicious glee at his weakness. Wasn't that why Zocite had waited? To see
his mentor brought to his knees? To revel in seeing the Mighty Warrior
undone by something so trivial as a poisoned youma bite? The worried
concern that stared back at him was unnerving and only made his confusion
worse. Zocite didn't understand. He couldn't take that offered help,
couldn't trust anyone. Trust of anyone but oneself was a weakness that the
other youma would detect immediately and lock onto like a Bloodhawk on
wounded prey. Why couldn't this Newborn understand? Something came into
Zocite's face as he slapped that hand away. Anger. Hatred? He should be
pleased to see it there so why did his whole being wince as Zocite whirled
on his heel and stalked for the door.

	"Zocite, wait." The words were out before he even knew they were
coming.