**SPOILER ALERT**This story picks up right where the events of the Ocean Palace/1st Lavos encounter leaves off. If it's been a while for you, allow me to condense the plot a little: Crono dies. Yeah! And as quite the hero, too. What a good guy he is, saving his pals like that! Anyway, the team is left in shambles in their leader's absence, wondering what the heck they're supposed to do. But when they run into Magus, some... intriguing discussion takes place.

Summary:Shortly after Crono's sacrificial death, the rather lost team has a strange run-in with Magus, whereupon he joins them in the efforts to find the Guru of Time, revive their beloved friend and bring Lavos down. Well, more so the latter, but even that becomes questionable when Magus' attentions are seemingly drawn... elsewhere.

With these short words, please enjoy! :)

"You wish to fight me?"

Although posed as a question, it was voiced with far more certainty than that of a question. In fact, it seemed more rhetorical than actual; a statement or a taunt, perhaps. Even sarcastically, the 'Mighty lord Magus' was not one to stoop to any sort of inquiry on any given day.

But of course, this was no ordinary, given day.

Teetering on the edge of the cliff overlooking relentless gray ocean waves, the mighty lord's heels dug into the last of the earth like a cat's claws into a tree branch. One had to question if he could empathize with the hypothetical cat, for it was only the efforts of the favoring wind at his back that kept him from taking a one-way trip off the rocky edge and into the icy, unwelcoming waters of 12,000 B.C. Whether it was intentional or another favor of the wind, his dark and encompassing cape made a convenient cover of exactly where he stood, keeping the three who had surrounded him in a guessing game of how far he could back up before...

Regaining his balance with as minimal a show as possible, his faze-less expression returned to the group whose stance was confused between a moment of defense and concern. His unmoved glare had caught the three weary and worn fighters off guard, making them wonder if the content of their previously transparent conversation had truly taken place. Gone was the mysteriously raw moment in which Magus had shared the depths his life with them; it had been stoned dead almost as abruptly as it had come about. But in as much as he had shared more with these people in the last few minutes than he had to anyone in years (or ever, for that matter), he wouldn't let them walk all over him now. Not now, not ever.

So he did what was safe when one's heels are on the edge of a cliff; he pushed.

"Well?" he snapped.

If Frog wasn't already solemn enough to begin with, the dark glare in his eye was doing a fine job of convincing the girls that he was not joking around. But worse still was the fact that the stone cold stare appeared to be clouding his senses, for he didn't seem to realize what he was doing. His slow steps could rival the speed of a sloth- so lethally sure and steady that it almost didn't look as though he were truly moving. Yet if it had been anyone less than the pig-headed prince of Zeal looking into those eyes, there would have already been a trail of dust left in their place. Even Lucca felt a chill run down her spine at what was inevitably happening; Frog was going to completely snap and destroy every trace of Magus from history.

The invitational question was already beyond temptation for him, and they knew it.

And Magus knew it too. It seemed it was practically the life goal of that ridiculous Frog-knight to bring him to an end, and while he could assume that he had offended all of them a fair measure, he could be sure there was a certain measure more in which Frog could find offence with him.

Magus pulled tentatively at the hem of his glove, ready to retaliate as the distance diminished and the tension heightened.

Not a muscle in the knight's tiny body was at peace. His brow had creased so deeply that it had blocked out everything around him- a tunnel vision of sorts with Magus being the only object at the end. Surly enough, Frog's left hand had shifted to his sword, moving so slowly that one wouldn't have even noticed his fingers clenched like stone at the hilt.

But one did.

"Glenn."

As if called out of a trance, his hand suddenly relaxed and the creaking of his leather boots ceased. He blinked a few times, giving his head a stiff shake of sorts as he made to take in the blinding daylight for what seemed to be the first time. For a long, long moment he stood stock still- that is, until a hand settled gently on his shoulder and melted a good portion of his lingering resolve.

Marle's big, bottomless eyes met his as he looked over his shoulder.

"Princess, I-I…" The melting anger and mystification on his mug wore him much better than the previous glower, she decided. Looking at the soft but firm sentence written on Marle's face, along with the swift shake of her head, he immediately realized that this was perhaps the most serious he had ever seen her. Her other hand tugged at the elegant, gold pendant at her neck, the only outward sign that she felt some unease in all of this.

To his right, Lucca held a tight, distant frown in place, simply shrugging when he met her eyes for counsel. She had taken on an unusual state of silence as of late, cold and calculated as a prisoner counting the metal bars of their cell. In fact, she hadn't said a word since Crono had…

Frog sighed. Crono wouldn't have wanted this, he knew. His shoulders relaxed. His grip on the hilt of his sword relaxed. Unintentionally, he shifted his weight away from the princess, rubbing at his temples.

The wizard cleared his throat impatiently, as if to remind them of his presence.

Frog looked back at him for a long, hard moment. "No…" he finally decided with more resolve than before. "Taking your life will not restore Crono's… nor Cyrus'."

The ensuing scowl could have drowned them all.

Magus' hand defaulted to its natural position at his hip. His watch grazed the misfit group, from the frog, to the stupid blonde girl interfering, to the painfully silent one and then back to the frog. They met his gaze with something like apathy or contentment, but which exactly he couldn't tell.

Frustrated, he looked back out over the sea and decided he didn't care if he fell into it or not. For all he knew, that could be the best option for him now. He would not admit it, but for the first time in a long time, Magus was unsure of what to do next. He had fully expected an attack.

In fact, he wanted one.

But catching the soft eyes of that girl as she slowly turned and followed after the other two, he knew there would be no fight. His eyes followed as them as they walked down the jagged rock of the cliff, off into to the rolling grass of the field, through the snow…

"Wait."

Unintentionally obedient, the three stopped mid-step. With a great measure of curiosity, they turned back to him, the blonde first with the others more hesitantly. A cold wind met their backs.

The wizard seemed to very much like wasting their time, for he only stood there stock still for a long moment, studying them as if he were about to paint them or take notes on the manners in which they responded to impudence- his, specifically. No; nothing of him moved. Not even his abdomen seemed to rise or fall with the natural consequence of breath, yet they somehow knew he was taking in a great breath, testing and evaluating the air in his chest as though to taste it. It looked to have both a bitter and confused conclusion, but with the amount of emotion that wizard showed, it could have easily been mistaken for the most beautiful sensation he had ever felt. Or smelt. Or… whatever wizards used in such instances.

The group was getting impatient with his silence but he didn't notice, nor would he care even if he had. There was something he recognized within that wind, no doubt. Something... safe. For once, it wasn't the black wind, but it was... it close enough to familiar to follow. In fact, it was better than familiar.

It was all he had at this point.

His feet were surprisingly light when he finally broke the stillness and moved towards them. "I'll come with you."

Perhaps his movement had registered, but his words had not. Shocked into mutual silence, they could merely exchange gawks and gapes with each other, waiting for someone's heart to fail from the sheer revelation of the wizard's words- namely Frog's. Magus, on the other hand, paused for some sort of verbal response which he was beginning to doubt would come. It seemed they literally would not fathom what had come from his mouth.

"What did you say?" the blonde finally asked, looking at him in pure bewilderment.

Not one to repeat himself, Magus crossed his arms over his chest and let out perhaps a quarter of a sigh. "You are deaf and stupid?"

Indignantly offended, Marle made to defend herself, but not before Frog could melt into more unprocessed, verbal disbelief. "T-Treachery!" he stuttered when he finally realized that he had, in fact, heard the man right. "Nonsense! By no means!"

"We're after the same thing, aren't we?" Magus took another step closer, feigning interest in something on the ground. "You want to kill Lavos. I want to kill Lavos."

Lucca merely huffed, crossed her arms and turned away, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Uhh," Marle began hesitantly, deferred from her attack. "Well, yeah I guess. But-"

"And who knows," the wizard added, "I might know of a way to bring your friend back." Three heads snapped to him at once, so he continued with an extra measure of disinterest. "I've heard of a certain Time Guru who may be of some use to you, or at least to your foolish friend."

"Crono?" The blond girl's eyes came to life as she now seriously considered his offer. She eagerly locked eyes with the inventor, whose features suddenly looked more alive than they had all week, then briefly passed over Frog's unprocessed sputtering before looking back to the wizard with a smile. A decided smile.

And that was that.

Frog looked from Lucca's intrigued expression to Marle's hopeful one and knew he was out-ruled. The prospect of somehow being able to bring Crono back was more than tempting enough to accept the faults of Magus into their party; they would do anything to get their friend back, even if that meant letting the wizard temporarily join them. As much as Frog hated to admit it, he would too; the poor knight had no choice. However, that did not mean he would be putting any distance between himself and the Masamune, and underneath his cloak, his cold digits tapped along the hilt of his trustworthy blade.

"Alright Magus," Marle concluded with a wider smile and an extended hand. "You're on our team!"

As if some sort of gong had just sounded, the words rang out and shook Lucca and Frog with the full, startled swing of realization. Leery, they looked to each other but held their tongues, either chewing on the weight of what they had just agreed to or waiting for something to blow up. Nothing happened.

Looking at the hand extended to him and past Marle's overwhelming smile, Magus grimaced. Without any further acknowledgment, he brushed past the skeptical amphibian and the two girls with great intent of picking up on the trace of peculiar… familiar wind. He could follow its trace, and by all means, he would.

Despite being both insulted and rejected, Marle's classic and full-hearted smile widened as she watched him pass. Her eyes fixed on his cape, floating effortlessly behind his monstrous frame and broad shoulders. Even though he carried himself with the confidence of a king, he didn't seem to be going any particular direction. In fact, it seemed like he was looking for something.

Snapping out of it, she realized the others were already a few hesitant steps behind the wizard, so she picked up her cold, nearly numb feet. "You see?!" she whispered happily as she caught up to them. "No matter how bad they've been or what they've done, everyone has some good in them. They just need a chance to show it!"

Lucca and Frog exchanged a cynical shake of their heads, keeping their eye on the skipping princess and their distance from the rain-cloud of a prince, opting to let the former lead the way.

Little did the former know just how wrong she was.