What Had Been
Vyctori

A/N: I've always wondered what was going through Kratos' mind that first night in Triet, and this one-shot is my way of exploring an idea or two. Writing Anna realistically was bloody hard. :sighs:

Disclaimer: Emphatically do not own Tales of Symphonia

Warnings: Het, big spoilers, Kratos!angst.

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It was a cool evening in Sylvarant, with just a hint of an autumn nip in the air—something that worried the two fugitives. They had been evading their pursuers for several months, and the thought of spending a harsh winter on the road was troubling.

Especially now, she thought, watching her husband of less than a year set up the firewood he had gathered so it would burn at the right speed. After the countless times he had performed the task, it was virtually automatic.

"Kratos. . . ."

Kratos looked up from the task without stopping his work. "What is it, Anna?"

". . . Never mind." She folded her hands over her stomach, a habit she had been indulging in more and more lately.

"Very well." After laying out the firewood, Kratos cast a quick Fireball to set it alight.

As he prepared their meal, a warm and filling stew, Anna couldn't help but study him as she searched for the right words to say. Now of all times, when they were in hiding from the Desians and Cruxis, and almost worse, with winter on the way . . . it was the worse possible time for it to happen. Yet a small part of her was still happy.

After they had finished eating, Anna tried again. "Kratos, dear, I . . . have something I need to tell you."

Briefly, alarm appeared on her husband's face before he regained control. "What is it?"

She bit her lip before responding. "I'm . . . pregnant."

Kratos was silent for quite some time. Then, softly, he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," was all she said.

He slumped where he was sitting, and his voice lacked its usual steadiness as he said, "How could it happen? We were so careful. . . ."

"It's my fault." Anna looked down. "There was one time that I forgot. I didn't remember until the next morning. I didn't want to say anything, because it was just one time."

It hadn't even been on purpose, she thought, though there had been many times she had been sorely tempted to "forget." She knew it was selfish of her. She had always wanted children, but Kratos had argued against it, saying that it was no time to bring a child into the world while they were still fugitives.

Anna knew that wasn't the only reason. Kratos also didn't want children because of his immortality. She knew it would be impossible for him to watch his child grow older and older and eventually die, and all that time he wouldn't have aged in the slightest.

"We were so careful," Kratos repeated in a whisper, bringing her back to the matter at hand.

"I know that. But it's done now. I'm pregnant." Anna clenched her fists. She couldn't even share what little happiness she possessed with him; he was too shocked and upset. Maybe later, he would be more receptive, but . . . it was painful right now. For both of them.

Catching her tone of voice, Kratos stood and moved from where he was sitting on the ground to come over and hold her. "Anna, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's fine." It wasn't, though.

They sat and stared into the fire, which was burning lower and lower. Kratos made no move to add more wood; he continued to hold her and stayed silent.

After a while, Anna spoke again. "We need to keep our child from the project."

"You're right." Kratos' hold on her tightened slightly. "No one should be forced to go through what you did.."

"And still am." A bitter smile crossed Anna's face as her hand went up to touch the developing Cruxis Crystal at her throat.

"We may yet find a dwarf unaffiliated with Cruxis who will know how to properly craft a Key Crest to contain it." Kratos' voice did not sound as if he had much hope.

Anna said nothing in response. She knew it was a hopeless task. Finding a dwarf living above the surface of Sylvarant would be nothing short of a miracle, and after her time in the Angelus Project, she didn't believe in such things. The only miracle she had ever experienced was the day when Kratos had rescued her, but even that was turning out to be empty as they spent all their time concealing their location in a miserable life. Having each other was all well and good, but it didn't keep her sheltered from the cold, and it didn't stave off the weariness and hunger. Conditions might be better than when she was at the ranch, but not by much.

"When will . . . our child be born?" Kratos' voice once again broke into her thoughts.

"In five months. Spring will just be beginning."

"I see." Kratos reached over and tossed a log onto the fire. Sparks flared as it landed and stirred up the embers.

"I'm sorry." And she was, her wish for a child put aside. They didn't need any more problems in their lives, but here was just one more they had to deal with.

"It was an accident, Anna. It doesn't mean I love you any less." He kissed the top of her head.

"And I love you." Anna leaned against him.

"I don't ever want you to leave me."

"I don't want to leave." But she knew she would be forced to, someday.

-

Seventeen years later, Kratos watched his son work away as he made a Key Crest for his teacher in a dark, dry room of Triet's only inn. Lloyd's brown-haired head was bent over his work as he sat on one of the two beds, so he didn't notice the man he knew only as "that annoying mercenary, Kratos" was observing him closely.

It had been such a wonderful yet terrible shock when Kratos had arrived at Martel Temple just outside of Iselia and had seen him. There was a strong resemblance to both himself and Anna in his face, and when the boy had introduced himself as Lloyd, he had known it was not a coincidence. The child he had thought dead along with his wife was alive and thriving.

They had been so close, Kratos thought bitterly as he had every year for the last seventeen. If only they had had one more day, they would have found Dirk, a solitary dwarf who happened to be visiting the surface. He could have fixed Anna's Cruxis Crystal in a matter of hours, and restored her steadily-fading emotions.

Instead, a few hours away from Dirk's house. . . .

Kratos shook his head and shifted position slightly in the chair he was sitting on. The child he had last seen as a toddler had grown. His hair was just as unmanageable as ever, a trait he had inherited with interest from his father; the colour was Anna's, however. His hands, working steadily away at the Key Crest, were no longer chubby and dimpled, but large and strong. All his baby fat was long gone, and seventeen-year-old Lloyd was just finished growing into his adult shape—of average height, but thin and slightly muscled. He was a young man any father would be proud of.

The dim light hid Kratos' self-loathing smile. Because of him, his son was going to die. Once they reached the Tower of Salvation, the Chosen would be sacrificed to be Martel's vessel, and those travelling with her . . . well, they wouldn't be allowed to live and bring tales to the rest of the world of what "regenerating the world" really meant.

He had done his best to force Lloyd to stay at home, hoping that he, at least would not be murdered at the end of the journey. But his son, it seemed, couldn't leave well enough alone, and he had managed to get himself banished along with his best friend. Now, two more lives would be on his conscience.

"There! Done!" Lloyd said, pleased. He held up the finished Key Crest to the slight moonlight filtering in through the window.

Turning to face Kratos, he added, "I'm going to go give this to the Professor. See you."

Kratos didn't say a word as Lloyd left the room and let the wooden door bang behind him. He sat at the table for a while longer, staring at nothing in the silent room.

Then, he walked outside, followed always by his thoughts of what had been, what was, and what was to be.