"Out hunting, are you?"
Shadow hadn't expected anyone to be up this late at night, especially not the old man. He stood with the moonlight cast upon his hunched back, that ridiculously red cape flapping in the wind.
"Aren't you a bit too old to drink?"
Strago looked down at the bottle in his gnarled hand and let out a laugh, one that Shadow hadn't heard for the longest time. "This ain't what you think it is. Meena makes the best mead in Thamasa. You remember her, don't you?"
"Not really." Shadow never gave much thought to the people of Thamasa. All he ever remembered of this place was the woman who had taken him in, took care of him, bore him a child. He remembered her well enough; sometimes, he would even see her in his dreams, a haunting image that brought both joy and sorrow.
"Figures." With a huff, Strago gulped down the mead and made for the door. He hadn't changed much, Shadow noted. Maybe his back had gotten worse, but that was to be expected. Relm and time hadn't been kind to him.
Shadow turned back to the window, but just as he was about to feel grateful for solitude once more, Strago's voice shattered his thoughts.
"Why did you come back?"
And Shadow had thought the old man would let it go.
When they came to Thamasa, Shadow had been reluctant, but Sabin wasn't having any of it, and so he soon found himself in his old home, face to face with the child that he had abandoned several years ago. His only solace lay in the mask that he'd come to rely on to keep his identity hidden, and not even Strago was able to recognize him.
But Shadow's hopes of leaving without a trace, as befit the nature of an assassin that he had come to associate with, were just now washed down the drain. Strago Magus never failed to surprise him.
The question hung in the cool night air until Shadow finally spoke, in a voice soft and heavy with guilt, "I never meant to."
Strago made a grunt of disgust. "Wish you could've seen what you put Relm through. If I were forty years younger I'd knock some sense into your damned head."
Shadow kept silent, eyes tracing the faint outlines of the room. Interceptor lay curled up on the bed, guarding his charge just as he guarded Shadow during their nights out in the wild.
"So, you've been taking care of her all this time?"
"'Course I have." Strago leaned against the wall, flattening creeping vines under his weight. "Who'd take in a rude, foul-mouthed, spoiled little brat like her?"
Shadow found himself chuckling, and the look in Strago's eyes softened as he came to stand beside Shadow. They watched her sleep for a while, Shadow fighting back memories of how he used to hold her little body to his chest, trying to tell himself that he didn't miss his days of peace spent here in this quiet town.
"You're a better father to her than I ever could be." It pained him to say so, but he knew it was the truth.
"I didn't just up and leave her, if that's what you mean." There was no accusatory tone to Strago's voice, which surprised Shadow, and when he turned he saw only a small, frail old timer. But in spite of the lines and wrinkles and loose skin that made up his face, and that red bulbous nose, Strago still lived up to Shadow's expectations as being one fond of snappy comebacks.
Shadow had thought that, after settling down in Thamasa, he could start life anew. Cradling his newly born daughter in his arms, he thought that he had found happiness at last, but it was short-lived. Baram returned to haunt him; he began to dread the nights when the ghosts of his past would plague his dreams, and he'd wake in a cold sweat, trembling all over, heart beating in his ears.
So he ran. Ran away from Thamasa, from everything he held dear. With Interceptor by his side, he travelled, putting his skills as a killer on the market.
He never expected to come full circle and wind up back here.
Relm rolled over, and he could see her face now as she lay on her side facing the window. So calm, so… unguarded. At the back of his mind, Shadow wondered what she was dreaming of, who she was dreaming of.
"Well," said Strago from beside him, "I'd better get some sleep. These old bones can't take such a damned cold night. Nice talking to you, though."
"Strago."
The old man stopped halfway through the door, cocked his head. "What d'you want this time?"
Shadow never looked at him. "Don't tell Relm anything. She's better off not knowing where her father's gone."
"I made a point never to mention Clyde since the day he left." Strago raised his empty bottle in a mock-toast. "Well, I hope your friends find whatever it is they're looking for. And I hope you'll come 'round before I get that young man to beat some sense back into you."
"Strago."
"What now?"
Shadow hesitated for a bit. "You don't mind if I… stay outside here for a while longer, do you?" He almost regretted blurting out such a thing, but Strago only laughed.
"You do whatever you want, Shadow, long as you don't murder me in my sleep." And with that, he closed the door on the night breeze, leaving Shadow alone once again.