Walk forward, into the world

Title: Walk forward, into the world
Author: Ainzfern
Genre: Ai no Kusabi – Post OVA
Code: Iason/Riki
Rating: NC-17
Parts: WIP – 4/?


Raoul Am was worried. Deeply, and on a disturbingly personal level.

As he sat to one side of his oldest and dearest Elite friend, Iason Mink, enduring the traditional pleasantries that would precede the negotiations between the head of the Tanagura syndicate and the federation government representative, Chey Neeson; Raoul outwardly mouthed meaningless platitudes and responded to the usual light sallies while, in the private recesses of his formidable mind, he bent his thoughts to the troubling matter of Iason.

More precisely, the troubling matter of Iason’s recent behavior.

At first, the changes were small. So much so that Raoul had little trouble in dismissing his concerns as a mere lingering after effect of the near death of his friend. But, as the days passed, Raoul began to realize that something was not quite right.

The official line was that Iason’s disappearance over three months ago was due to a secret secondment to a special mission for Jupiter. Of course, no one really believed it, but it was a lie they were comfortable with. The fact that he had returned, smoothly retaking over his rightful role and displaying all the formidable strength and cunning that he’d always had, made it much easier for his syndicate peers to adjust.

But, outside of the political field, Iason Mink had grown cold. Always magnificently aloof, he now seemed to be almost a parody of his old self. An Elite far colder and distant from others than he had ever been, even before his unfortunate and uncharacteristic tryst with the young mongrel from the slums.

He had sold off his remaining pet, which no-one could deny was his right, but… then he had not replaced it. In fact, he showed no interest in the usual pastimes of a Tanagura Elite at all anymore. Not Pet parties, no auctions, even the endless banquet of sensual delights in Eos’ central district were devoid of Iason Mink’s presence.

And then, of course, there was the strange business of Iason’s Furniture, Dane.

At first, the notion that Dane was purchased to serve solely as a housekeeper had amused Raoul. A Furniture that was not allowed to attend to his Master’s physical appearance..? He had found the thought of it quite droll.

But now… in hindsight, Raoul couldn’t help but feel that there was something almost sinister about that too.

Raoul saw him regularly enough, he supposed, but their conversations these days seemed limited to syndicate business. To his credit, Raoul had tried, even offering to acquire some trial samples of the latest batch of pets from the Academy on Iason’s behalf.

To say the least, Iason’s lack of enthusiasm regarding that idea had been almost aggressive.

Raoul was finding more and more that he no longer knew how to reach his old friend.

And, if he were to be honest with himself, he missed him. Even the Iason Mink that had suffered so much indignity over his obsession with the mongrel would have been preferable to the man he was right now.

And the final worry that drifted through Raoul’s mind, perhaps even the most concerning one, was the nature of Iason’s communions with Jupiter…

He was going to have to speak up about it.

And soon.

Bringing his attention back to the now, Raoul focused more fully on the by-play around him. He noted the slight change in Iason’s expression, the glint of genuine pleasure and enthusiasm in his pale eyes as the pleasantries concluded and the two players in this delicate dance took their designated seats together.

Ah… Raoul sat forward slightly, the old familiar gratification in this moment beginning to rise. This was the part that he had always enjoyed the most, seeing his friend doing what he was born to do.

Deal. And deal damned hard.

And, it seemed that it was only in the service of Amoi these days, where Raoul got to see the truly passionate echoes of the man Iason had once been. Even though he was still concerned on many levels about Iason’s recent behavior outside of the political playing field, he could not deny that he was glad that this, at least, was as uncompromising as ever.

“So you are actually prepared to talk prices at this juncture, your Excellency?” Neeson was asking, his eyes never leaving Iason’s gaze for a moment, his expression calm and carefully composed.

Yes, Raoul could see that the man was good. But Iason, as Neeson was about to learn, was much, much better.

“Indeed I am, Mr. Neeson,” Iason’s rich mouth curved slightly, although the smile did not quite reach his eyes. “Amoi is an energy hungry society, as I have no doubt you have already observed.”

Neeson nodded slowly.

“The federation government’s most recent timely claim on the raw fuel deposits on Hepstra could serve to be most profitable for both sides of this negotiation.” Iason tapped one long finger against the arm of his chair for a moment as he fell silent, awaiting Neeson’s reply.

Straightening up slightly, Neeson smiled. “I have been authorized to offer the price of forty per barrel, your Excellency, but perhaps I can offer a certain flexibility on that now that I have come to see you as an honorable opponent - -“

“Thirty-five for the high-grade, twenty for standard and ten per barrel on the unprocessed.” Languidly, Iason reached for the glass of water set beside his chair and waited.

Neeson’s eyes widened. Watching closely from the sidelines, Raoul carefully smothered a chuckle as the profoundly shocked silence stretched out.

At last Neeson shook his head. “Would the sponsor of Partia see the federation government bankrupted?” he asked pointedly.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Iason’s slight smile grew even colder. “Which is why he is actually offering three points above your true reserve price.”

Neeson blinked, no longer even attempting to maintain the pose of indifference. “You’ve done your research well, it would seem.”

Once again, Iason simply waited.

“Give me twenty-five on the standard from the primary mine and I will consider the scale pricing,” Neeson continued, his tone firm.

“Twenty, I must insist,” Iason set his glass back down. “You haven’t even begun to reach the full depth of those deposits. Plus, I must confess that I believe your initial forecasts on the high-grade fields are, at best, excessively optimistic.”

“The delegates from the united industries would offer at least twenty-five, your Excellency,” Neeson’s tone was slightly reproachful.

At that point, hearing that tone, Raoul knew that Chey Neeson had just lost the race.

“This is true, Mr. Neeson,” Iason replied smoothly, “But the united industries delegates are not sitting in front of you now. I am.”

“Indeed you are,” Neeson murmured, almost to himself, before sitting back in his chair. “I am afraid that I may be coming very close to exceeding the authority my government has granted me. If I may beg your indulgence, I would like to contact the senate for further instruction.”

Inclining his head graciously, Iason lifted one broad shoulder. “Of course, Mr. Neeson. Shall we re-convene later this evening?”

“I believe that would be acceptable.”

“Very well, then.” Iason gave a final nod of agreement, signaling that the parley, at least for now, was at a close.

The tension abruptly dissipated when Chey Neeson suddenly chuckled aloud, his entire manner visibly relaxing. “Well… I was warned,” he remarked in a tone laden with irony. “It would seem that I have more than met my match in this particular arena.”

“You flatter me, Chey,” Iason replied, falling back into a more casual manner.

Neeson waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense.” He grinned ruefully. “You’ll probably get what you want, you know.”

“I usually do.”

“Hmm.” Neeson rose to his feet and extended his hand, smiling again when Iason also stood and clasped it firmly. “I am beginning to understand why.”

“You will contact my office once you are ready to conclude?” Iason asked as he released Neeson’s hand.

“I will.” With that, he nodded his farewell to both Iason and Raoul before turning away, gesturing to his small entourage of officials who followed him quietly from the conference room.

Raoul turned from the doorway, smiling slightly as he heard Iason’s soft snort of amusement. “You rather like him, don’t you?” he asked his friend knowingly.

Pale eyes met his own gaze. “I do,” Iason reached down to the negotiating table, picking up his research file and flicking thoughtfully through it. “He’s honest – which makes a pleasant change from the previous delegates the federation government kept insisting on sending us.”

“True.” Leaning one lean hip against the table, Raoul regarded Iason with interest. “So… how high are you really willing to go?”

Tucking the folder under his arm, Iason shrugged. “I’ll give him another two points on the reserve if I must.” His flawless face grew artfully bland. “Of course… he’ll have to ask for it.”

“You’re a sly son of a bitch.”

Iason huffed a soft chuckle. “I’ve been called much worse, Raoul.”

“Oh, I know. Quite often by me, if I recall correctly.” Encouraged by the genuine light of warmth in Iason’s eyes, by the familiar flash of the old Iason that Raoul had lost sight of in recent weeks, he decided to chance an overture.

Perhaps, he reasoned to himself, Iason had not changed as much as he imagined. “Well, it could be some time before our Mr. Neeson contacts you again… why don’t you join me for a few hours in Eos central? A light meal? A pleasant diversion, or two?”

“I’m afraid I can’t.” To Raoul’s disappointment Iason’s demeanor once more became brusque and distant as he moved towards the door. “I have an appointment with Jupiter already in place.”

“Ah yes. Again.” Raoul watched, his eyes narrowing as Iason paused in the doorway. “Is there something amiss, Iason?” he asked suddenly, needing to voice his formerly unspoken concerns. “Some reason for the fact that you apparently need to commune with Jupiter every single day?” He lifted his hands in a futile gesture. “Even as head of the syndicate, you only ever used to enter her sanctum when you required her guidance… but now?”

Slowly, Iason turned back to him, his eyes flat with something that looked very much like hostility, for all that his face was composed. “Are you questioning her right to demand my attendance, Raoul?”

“No.” Raoul stepped towards him, his chin set stubbornly. “But I am concerned about the effect all of this is having on you. You’re different, Iason…”

“I am not.”

“You are.” Raoul shook his head, his frustration rising. “Tell me, please. You know that I will listen. I always have, haven’t I?”

Iason held his gaze steadily. “There is nothing to tell. She simply wants to be fully kept informed of my progress as I resume my duties.”

Venting a deep sigh, Raoul felt his mouth twist bitterly. “I really would have thought, Iason, that once the mongrel was gone you might have ceased lying to me.”

Even as the words left his mouth, Raoul saw the sudden blaze of pure rage flash into Iason’s eyes, but he held his ground, facing down his furious friend. A moment of absolute silence passed before, almost as quickly as it had appeared, the anger in Iason’s face drained away, replaced once again, by a carefully constructed mask of detachment.

“I think, Raoul,” Iason told him, almost thoughtfully, “That it would be best for both of us, if you were never to mention Riki again in my presence.”

“Iason…”

“No.” Iason deliberately turned his back on his friend, stepping out through the doorway of the conference room. “No, Raoul. This conversation is over.”

Raoul stood for a long time once Iason’s footsteps had faded away down the corridor, staring at the floor with a deeply preoccupied frown on his normally smooth brow. It seemed somehow that, despite all the good intentions in the world, he had managed to sink himself more deeply into the mire than he would have imagined. Thus far, from all outward observations, Jupiter seemed content enough to let things rest as they were. Raoul surmised that, as long as Iason remained ignorant of the fact that Riki stilled lived, she would have no reason to act against him.

But, if Raoul were to tell Iason the truth, and if Jupiter were to subsequently pick that truth out of his mind, then…

Well, the possible consequences didn’t bear thinking about.

Nevertheless, Raoul wished that he could simply say it. Simply speak the secret and wash his hands of it once and for all.

Because then, he reasoned as he slowly made his own way out of the empty conference room, he might stop feeling like the appalling hypocrite that he so very clearly was.


TBC…