Something that really bugs me about DC2 is that Monica is from the future, but she's a princess and hits people with swords and magic spells, compared to Max who's from the past but shoots guns and rides big scary robots. What, machines went out of fashion?

My first fanfic, and also, I haven't played DC2 for more than a year. Feel free to correct any factual inaccuracies that might crop up.

One last thing: This fanfic is dedicated to anyone who has ever done sentry duty from 0200 - 0400. One way to keep from going insane with boredom is to write a fanfic in your head.

Prologue: Home

Nothing ever happened at the stone circle. Well, admittedly, there was the occasional bird pecking around looking for the proverbial early worm. Perhaps the odd fox or two, running through. And of course the grass grew ever longer, as it had for countless centuries. Except that today something WAS happening. An impossibly white light was shining forth within the centre of the circle, almost manging to eclipse the itself incredibly intense coloured light emanating from the stones themselves. Powerful magic is at work here, the casual observer would say to himself. And if the observer were not quite as casual as he seemed, if he were versed in the mysteries of ice and fire, then he might muse to himself: This magic was not wrought by mortal man, but by the power of the Atlamilla.

The light faded. The blazing power suffusing the stones guttered, then died. And the shortest of the three figures which had not been there before put her hands on her hips and complained to the world at large, "This was NOT how I expected to be welcomed home."

"Now, now, Princess Raybrandt," chided the tallest and burliest figure, clad in an intricately worked suit of silver armour. "We should be glad to be back here at all. We don't know how Griffon's Chrono Union affected our own time. There may have been... repercussions."

"Repercussions?" The young princess was clearly puzzled. "And stop calling me Princess, Galen. Or do you want me to call you the Supreme Defender of Eltrys everytime I need to talk to you?" Irritated, now.

General Galen, Supreme Defender of Eltrys and recent rebel leader, winced. "That is a rather clunky title, isn't it? I told your father that when he created it, but he wouldn't listen to me. He could be incredibly stubborn at times. Just like you, Monica."

Monica nodded in agreement, red eyes momentarily unfocusing as memories of her deceased father sprang to mind. The two of them stood in silence for a moment, lost in the mists of memory, until Monica cleared her throat and repeated her question. "Repercussions, Galen?"

"Oh. Well, time travel is a tricky business. Take Paznos for example. I designed and built her - I could draw her plans from memory. And yet sometimes I come across rooms I could swear I never made, except that a tiny part of me insists that I did. And I am certain I never used the colour pink, yet half of the living quarters are pink." He glanced sideways at Monica, who blushed slightly.

"I am the Galen that tried to build Paznos with a rundown, tiny workshop in Gundorada, and failed, only to see a princess I thought dead return and offer us salavation. And yet at the same time I am also the Galen that came to the magnificent Gundorada Workshop and built a more powerful Paznos than I had ever dreamed of. When you changed the past, Monica, you changed us, too. It may be that no one here today remembers Griffon, except that he was defeated a hundred years ago, with help from a different future."

Monica was quiet as she pondered this. "Then... my father could still be alive?" Her voice was tremulous with hope.

A new voice broke in. "I'm afraid that's highly unlikely, Monica." It was the third figure, hitherto silent. Tears streaked her delicate face. "I've had some experience with time travel, remember? When I went back to meet Gerald... and Max" Her voice faltered as she mentioned her husband and son, then regained strength. "The devastation Griffon wrought will most probably remain, although memories of him will be vague."

Impulsively, Monica hugged her. "I'm sorry, Elena. I can't imagine what it must feel like to leave your husband and son back in the past after so long apart from them. You've sacrificed so much for us all. I wish there were some way you could have stayed."

"I don't think I would have stayed even if I could, Monica." Elena's voice was brittle, strained almost beyond breaking by grief.

"Huh?" Once again Monica was confused. "But..."

Elena smiled, sadly. "You see, my son, Maximillian, died six months after we left."


"Max?" Someone knocked on the door to Maxillian's study. "Can I come in?"

Max looked up from his letter-writing, startled. For a moment, lost in his thoughts and memories, he had thought it was his mother, calling him like she had when he was young. Not every mother respected a child's privacy, but then, Elena was special. Then his cognitive faculties kicked in, and he recognised the voice. "Come on in."

A messy mop of long blonde hair thrust its way through the doorway, followed by a slender body clad in a simple white dress. Grinning sheepishly, Claire waved at Max from across the room, and said, "Hi, Max."

Max found himself grinning foolishly back. "Shouldn't you be outdoors on a day like this?", he asked, pointing towards the window. Outside, the sun gambolled merrily in a field of blue, playing peekaboo with the help of majestically fleecy clouds. Birds were singing. Dogs were barking. The very air itself was alive with the essence of spring. On a day like this, some said, if you stared very hard at a blade of grass, you could actually see it move.

"I could ask the same of you, couldn't I? In any case, that's kind of why I'm here," Claire replied, a dark expression crossing her face. "It's that stupid father of mine! He absolutely refuses to let me step foot inside the forest. He says it's too dangerous! I can't believe it!"

"Well, it is kind of dangerous in there," said Max, vaguely feeling the need to defend Mayor Need. After all, he had been a big help when Max had saved the world a few months past - admittedly, mostly by providing extra changes of clothing when Max had needed them, but hey! when a big ball of rock has chewed your shirt off you need all the help you can get. A single father was a most useful thing to have along on an extended expedition into the unknown.

"Dangerous my foot!" stormed Claire, further illustrating the point by stamping said foot. "There are so many interesting plants out there that no one has ever seen, let alone catalogued! What could possibly be out there? Butterflies? Besides, I have the gun you gave me for my birthday."

Max winced. He had been attacked by butterflies before. Big, scary ones. Still, he hadn't had the Supernova laser cannon then. He fervently prayed that Claire would never find out he had forgotten her birthday. "So, uh, you decided to spend the day with me in my study like the filial daughter that you are?" he asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

"No!" Claire fumed. "He said I needed an escort. Guess who he named."

Max felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Sometimes he regretted ever convincing Claire to leave the books she loved so much.

"It's you."

Max groaned.

"Come on, Max. You won't finish that letter of yours today. It'll be fun."

Max looked out the window again. It was a very fine day.

"And I packed lunch. We can have a picnic."

Max bit his lip in indecision.

"Please? Max?"

"Okay! Okay! Just let me get my stuff. And let's be careful, alright? Not like the last time, when you almost fell off the cliff trying to reach that Nessus Kylandicus."

"But it was worth it, wasn't it?" Claire smiled radiantly. "I've never seen one so large."

"Yeah, I guess it was," Max sighed. Still, an afternoon traipsing through the forest offered a welcome break from sitting in his study working on his letter. And something interesting was bound to happen.

Sometimes, just sometimes, he liked the new Claire.