Journeys Home

by GordyGordiant

After the destruction of the SOLG, the Aces of Razgriz faded into legend. Yet even as they completed their final mission, one task remained: a successful homecoming. For some, it took only a few days. For others, a few years. In the wake of the Circum-Pacific War, join these former fighter pilots as they try to remember what it means to live a normal life.

January 3, 2011

Walking up the path to his family's home, Grimm was nervous. Coming back from the dead wasn't exactly an everyday occurrence. That alone would be enough of a shock to his family. He wasn't sure how they'd spent the last month dealing with his reported death, but he was certain that his return would render all of that moot.

Which is why he paused as he reached his front door. He knew that what he was feeling was irrational. Why wouldn't his mother want to see her son after such a long war, one that she thought he had died in? What about his brother, the one he'd joined the military in order to follow? Any guilt he felt about setting his brother on the path to an early death could be absolved the moment Grimm walked through that door.

But despite the sound logic, Grimm still felt afraid. He had flown against impossible odds and unspeakably overwhelming enemies, yet he couldn't even bring himself to face his family after so long.

Until he remembered why he'd gone up against such adversaries to begin with. No matter how daunting the battles had seemed, he'd fought them because he wanted to protect his loved ones. To see them happy.

So if that was the objective, then that meant this was just another sortie.

Even though he would never fly the skies of battle again, Grimm becomes Archer yet again, if only for this final mission. With a deep breath and newfound determination, he knocks sharply on the front door.

Seconds seem to pass like years, and Archer begins to grow antsy until he hears that familiar click of the deadbolt being drawn back.

Then the door opens a crack as he sees half of a familiar and gentle face, albeit with more wrinkles from the last time he saw it, peer out from it curiously. Then, recognition mixing with disbelief, the face reveals more of itself as the door swings to open more until at last, his mother stands fully exposed in the doorway.

Archer wants to explain, to tell her all that has happened in the weeks that he's been dead. He wants to apologize for worrying her, and to ask her how she's been.

But before he can say anything, his mother holds out her arms to embrace him. The tears begin to flow from her face even as she smiles and says, "Happy birthday, Hans."

Unable to hold back any longer, Grimm takes his mother's embrace desperately, clinging to her as if it was she who had been proclaimed dead, only to appear before him now very much alive.

Between sobs, he chokes out, "I'm home, Ma."

He has fought hard enough as Razgriz 4. Here and now, in his mother's arms and his one true home, the newly-twenty-year-old boy can finally go back to being Hans Grimm.

May 13, 2012

The crushing depths of the ocean are thankfully kept back by the hull of the submersible. Despite that, Snow can't help but feel as if it will come crashing down on him any moment now. If it was a choice between this and a storm of missile alerts, Snow would gladly weave through the latter in a Fishbed as long as he was above sea level.

"Is something wrong, Marcus?"

Mentally shaking himself from his reverie, Snow replies with a crisp, "No, sir."

Hearing a chuckle, Snow turns to the other passenger. His eyes meet those of his longtime friend.

"If you're still calling me 'sir' after all this time you've been in retirement, then there certainly is," Andersen laughs.

"Just... showing my respect for your new rank, Admiral."

"Ah, well, if the Navy wants to keep an old warhorse like me around, I suppose I can oblige. Though it is strange that they'd award such an honor to a man who's only won one battle."

Even after all these years, Andersen still doesn't see himself as the hero Osea had lauded him as. No amount of honors would help him forget the sadness he felt as less pilots returned after each sortie.

In that aspect, he was not alone. Wrapped in the claustrophobic confines of the sub, with countless volumes of sea just beyond, Snow realizes that the reason why he's so uncomfortable with the current situation is that it reminds him of his own survivor's guilt. Snow had been at the bottom of the ocean ever since the day he saw that his plane was the only one left on the Kestrel's flight deck.

So, as one survivor to another, Snow says, "Sir, those losses aren't yours to bear. As the commander of the fighter squadron, their lives were my responsibility. Every life lost was my own defeat."

Andersen looks like he wants to respond, but Snow cuts him off and continues. "You were the captain of the Kestrel. The captain of our home. And no matter how many battles we were sent into, you always made sure that we had a home to return to. Those, sir, were your victories. And true to the praise you've received, you never lost even once."

Andersen laughs again, although Snow can detect a hint of bitterness this time. "Well then Captain Snow, if my success is measured in how many battles the Kestrel survived, then surely you'd know that the record isn't perfect. What would you call the final time that I launched you into the air?"

Snow doesn't hesitate, doesn't even need to think. "Your greatest victory, sir."

"Really?"

"Yes, sir. For when you launched us into the air that day, you gave us a chance to save the world. A world that we all call home."

Andersen looks away for a moment, and when he turns to face him again, Snow can see a hint of a new light in his eyes. His burden has not been relieved. Snow knows more than anyone that such guilt cannot be erased overnight. But as his friend and former captain puts a hand on his shoulder with wordless gratitude, Snow can take comfort in the fact that he has at least helped lessen it.

"Gentlemen," the sub's pilot calls out, "we've arrived."

The two survivors move to the cockpit where, past the glass bubble and illuminated by the lights of the sub, they see what they have survived.

The sea has not been kind to her. Perhaps the ghosts of all she had sent to the depths had come to drag her down themselves. Despite the sorry state of her wreckage, Snow cannot help but feel something slide into place within his soul. He looks to Andersen and knows without words that he feels the same way.

Ever since the war had ended, Snow felt as if he had forgotten something. Now, before her remains, he understands: he had never returned to the Kestrel. The mission wasn't accomplished until he returned home.

As the sub descends towards the carrier, the familiar view of the approaching flight deck causes something to stir inside him, a box on a mental checklist that he has to mark off. Without thinking, Swordsman mumbles "Permission for landing."

He cringes with embarrassment as Andersen breaks into full-on laughter and slaps him on the back. "You have permission to land," he jokes. And then, on a more sincere note, he adds, "Welcome home."

How curious, to find comfort in such a sentiment at the bottom of the ocean. But both know that it is one which brings them a measure of peace unlike any other.

For three long years after the end of the war, Razgriz 3 had flown on his final mission. Now once again having returned to his ship, his home, Marcus Snow can confidently say "Mission accomplished." Though for the sake of his pride, he'll try and keep it in his head this time.

August 9, 2012

Vincent Harling wouldn't be President for much longer. He had announced that he had no intention to run for a third term last year. When faced with Osea's cry for its national hero to continue his wise leadership over the country, Harling had simply responded that it would do Osea no justice for him to deprive them of other potential leaders, ones who could find ways even he wouldn't think of to make the world a better place. Hopefully the precedent would stick.

That being said, Harling still had a few things to take care of before stepping down. War reparations with Yuktobania had been going smoothly, and while Nikanor had not wanted to burden the Oseans, Harling insisted on having his country take the lead in fixing what his military had destroyed in his absence. There was no ill will between the two countries, save for some smoldering pockets of nationalism here and there. Those too were fizzling out; what filled the vacuum, however, brought Harling little comfort.

When it was revealed that the newly christened Circum-Pacific War had been orchestrated by Belkans who had infiltrated both countries' militaries, it had sparked no less than a witch-hunt throughout Osea. Harling had made it clear that these were the acts of a small militaristic group, acts that shouldn't form the context for the attitude towards the entire population, especially when so many were first and foremost honest Osean citizens.

But many saw it as the horrors of the Belkan War being repeated again, only this time upon their sons and daughters whom the previous generation had bled for, in order so that they may not have to make those sacrifices themselves. The result had been a resurgent anti-Belkan sentiment rippling across the whole of the Federation, and into all facets of life. Even Harling, as conciliatory as he tried to be, had to consent to the detainment and questioning of several high-profile military officers of Belkan ancestry; the fact that the corruption had worked its way as high as former Vice-President Appelrouth meant that some chances couldn't be taken. Some of those men and women were heroes, and it sickened him to treat them this way. Harling could only hope that they were being processed efficiently. If they finished while he was still President, he could hopefully find some way to compensate them. As for Belka itself, they claimed no responsibility for the acts of the Grey Men. With their responsibility of paying war reparations from the Belkan War still continuing even to this day, Harling wouldn't have believed them even if they had.

In short, the Osean continent had its fair share of troubles in the wake of this new war, but his country's perserverance through these past few grueling months made Harling confident that they would make it through this alright.

So he turned his attention to another continent, across another ocean, and what would be his last act as President. Thankfully, the Eruseans had, save for a few factions, not only consented to the building of the International Space Elevator, but they along with the other Usean countries had actively supported its construction. With their combined efforts, the elevator had been completed even before the training of the astronauts who would use it.

Flipping through the dossiers on his desk, Harling would now decide which one of these astronauts would represent Osea on the international mission into space. Not that it was really much of a decision-making process for him. He already knew which one he was looking for.

He smiles as he finds her file at last. In his head, the sound of her pretty voice rings clear and true. He was certain that no other voice would be more fit than hers to announce that the ocean of stars would be within reach. Out there, there would be no borders for nations to fight over. There would be room enough for all of humanity to live to their heart's content. What better messenger to convey such a promise than the former ace who had desired nothing more than to see his bridge of peace span into outer space?

Harling hands her file to his secretary. "This one," he says.

She would be the one to complete that bridge, to secure it to the other side of the sky so that the rest of civilization could cross into the cosmos. He could think of no better way to thank her than that, than to send her to find a home for all among the stars.

She would no longer need to be a warrior. The woman who was Razgriz 2 would now be a Pilgrim. One who would lead mankind on a journey into skies unknown.

November 29, 2019

Kei Nagase stood in front of the building's entrance. The joy of her return to Earth had been followed by a very busy month debriefing government officials, making public appearances and being trapped in formal meetings with far too many people. At last, three days ago, she was finally granted an official vacation period.

Not all of those meetings had been bad. She had been able to meet with the pilot who had saved the space elevator in one of them. He was young, quiet, and reserved, but Nagase only had to look him in the eyes to know that he was a skilled ace.

She had seen that look before, of course. Everytime she looked in the mirror back in the war.

And everytime she had looked into his eyes.

Having finally dispensed with the last of her emotions upon reuniting with her family after her seven year absence, Nagase began investigating on his whereabouts. At first it had been a bit of a challenge, as they had fallen somewhat out of contact when she had begun her astronaut training. However, when she saw an advertisement for a flight school in November City with a certain name, she knew where to go.

Nagase reads the name of the building before her again. "Alvin H. Davenport School of Aviation", the sign by the front door says. Despite all the years that have passed, the memory of that motormouth still brings tears to her eyes. Brushing them away, she thanks whatever god there is that she found her way to these doors. Then, without further hesitation, she pulls one open and steps inside.

After some explaining and the good fortune that today wasn't a busy day, the young woman at the front desk leads Nagase out to the tiny little runway, where a small two-seater prop plane has just landed.

She knows even before he steps out of the cockpit that it's him.

While ground crew begins to tow the plane back to its hangar, he walks alongside the pilot of the trainer plane, a boy who couldn't have been any older than 18. Nagase was startled by how much the boy reminded her of Grimm.

The woman who escorted Nagase tells her to wait here, then walks up to the two. After a few short words, he finally notices Nagase standing behind her. She feels a shiver creep up her back as she feels his stare. Even though she can't see his eyes, she knows he is watching her with that same gaze which had felled so many enemies in the war. That same gaze which had protected her and countless others.

With a nod of thanks to the young woman and a few parting words of feedback to his trainee, he separates from the two and finally begins to make his way towards Nagase.

She blinks.

In what seems to have taken both an instant and an eternity, Edge finds Blaze standing before her once more.

A dull pain throbs in her heart.

She is struck by how little he has changed. If he had been wearing a proper flight suit, she might have been able to deceive herself into thinking she was back at Sand Island. From his short, dark hair to his gentle features that first earned him the moniker of "Kid", Blaze looks nearly the same as he did nine years ago, save for one small change.

"You've gotten taller," she murmurs.

He breaks into a warm smile. "And you're still terrible at this. Seven years since we last saw each other, and the first thing you do is comment on my height?"

With a giggle, she returns his smile as she hugs him, the pain in her chest subsiding. "It's good to see you again, Blaze."

"You too, Edge."

They pull away and go for a walk together along the edge of the runway, making small talk as they go. Nagase tells him about the wonders she's seen out in space, the parts that aren't classified at least. She thought she was being reserved, but is surprised when Blaze laughs.

"You really haven't changed, huh Nagase?" he says. "Always so in love with the stars. Guess it's good to see you still have a knack for being corny."

She blushes and punches him lightly in the arm. He responds by tousling her hair roughly, and they both break into another fit of laughter.

Coming to the end of the small runway, they find a pair of crates that haven't been stored yet. The two each take a seat while Blaze recounts his own past seven years down on Earth, though for the most part his stories center around the kids he's trained to fly. Nagase doesn't miss the fact that he calls them kids, either. As his eyes light up while he describes the potential of the trainee he flew with today, she interrupts him, saying "You sound a lot like Pops."

He looks thoughtful. "Really? I always thought about what Bartlett would do whenever I was stuck on how to teach something. He could be a harsh SOB, but he sure had a way with training nuggets who didn't know their flight stick from their foot pedal."

"Oh, I'm sure you try to channel him as best you can in front of your trainees. The way you talk about them, though, how you read and analyze every maneuver, and how you can't help but let your affection slip even as you criticize them, I wouldn't be surprised if they call you 'Pops' too."

Now it's Blaze's turn to look bashful. He rubs the back of his neck as he smiles sheepishly. "Ah, well. Guess I can't help it. I wanna bring out the best in these kids, you know? I don't think Chopper would forgive me if I was graduating less than perfect pilots with his name on them."

His smile turns somber, and silence takes him. Nagase opens her mouth to speak but finds herself similarly afflicted. The tears she brushed away at the entrance do not resurface, but that dull ache in her chest does. Her mind races frantically for something, anything to fill the gap in the conversation. She considers trivial topics, things like the weather or how his day had been, but realizes that this emptiness cannot be filled with empty words.

So, she takes a chance, and says something with meaning instead.

"Blaze."

He laughs, but it's forced. Nervous, even. He knows what's coming.

"Never gonna call me by my real name, huh?"

He tries to deflect. She won't let him. She might have crossed this line on a whim, but what lay beyond had been delayed long enough; she wouldn't back down now.

"Why did you push me away?"

That ghost of a smile on Blaze's face expires at last. Despite the relatively warm day, a chill runs down Nagase's spine. She refuses to let it show. Not now.

"...it was your dream, wasn't it?" he says at last, his voice barely a whisper in the late autumn breeze. "To go off into space, see the stars? For the sake of all mankind?"

She swallows back a sob when she hears him say that. Even after all these years, the first thing on his mind is that. Those same words which he used to push her away the first time.

"Yes," she murmurs, "it was my dream. But sometimes dreams shouldn't come true, because what exists in front of us is far more important. Because there's a difference between chasing dreams and fleeing reality."

He laughs again, but this time she can hear the pain. "So, you're a coward then?"

She bristles. "I wouldn't be the only one."

He glares at her. "Are you serious? Did you even read the name of this place before you walked in? I've gotten over it."

"On the contrary. This place is the very evidence that you haven't."

"I'm honoring his memory!"

"No. You're haunted by it."

A retort fails him as she presses on.

"It's ironic. The war saved us. It kept us busy fighting, so that we didn't have to think about him being gone. It wasn't until the end that I realized what we'd have to come back to. That final sunrise over Oured... Do you remember what I asked of you?"

"...how could I forget?" Blaze finds his words again. "To fly by my side just a while longer, until the final battle was over."

Now it's Nagase's turn to laugh bitterly. "Oh, you damn fool. Yes, that's what I said, but not what I meant."

"What are you-"

"I never had any doubt that you would destroy the SOLG, Blaze. You didn't need my protection as your flight mate to do that. No, I was asking to be the one closest to you. To be yours." She blushes a bit in embarrassment, in spite of herself. "Although I really could have worded it better, in hindsight."

Blaze looks at her in confusion. "But you were mine. We were together, and for a good two years before-"

"No, Blaze, we weren't. I knew the moment you told me I should be an astronaut that we had never really been connected at all."

His face twists in agony, and she almost wants to cry out and take back everything she said. Edge bites her lip and steels herself instead. She won't make that mistake again.

"So, that's it, huh?" He doesn't even sound angry at her. The crushing vice around his heart is choking him up too much to express any anger. "The whole time we were together, you never really loved me-"

"No, I never did," Kei whispers, the tears flowing unbidden now. She doesn't try to stop them now, doesn't even think about them. Her vision goes blurry, and she's glad for it; if she had to see the expression on Blaze's face now, she'd rather be struck blind.

"I never did," she repeats. "I knew that the war was the only thing keeping you from having to face the grief you felt over Chopper. I knew that because I felt the same way."

She places a trembling hand over her heart. "So I decided to be with you. So that we could heal together. So that we could find comfort and protection in each other. A home in each other, a place to go now that we didn't need to fight any longer.

"And the whole time, I thought that we had it. I thought it was working. We were so happy, Blaze. We fought so hard for peace, and now we had it. And the best part was that we could enjoy it together. I thought I loved you. We were so happy with what we had that we forgot what we lost."

She looks at him and can't even muster a sad smile as she continues. "But forgetting isn't healing. I didn't realize it until you found out about my selection and told me to go for it. You realized it then too, didn't you?"

He faces Nagase, but his eyes stare through her, focused on a distant point in a faraway time. Slowly, he nods as he tears up as well.

"I used you," he says, voice cracking. "I kept you for myself because it made me feel like I was okay. Like I was alive. Like my heart wasn't shattered to pieces and scattered to the wind. But seeing that letter from Harling, it made me remember that you were your own person, with your own hopes and aspirations. And I'd been denying you that for all this time because I was afraid of having to face a world without our friend alone.

"So I let you go, and I tried to put myself back together. I thought doing this," he makes a sweeping gesture at the runway, "was the way to do it. But all I know how to do is fly, Kei. No problems in the sky that you can't shoot down or fly away from. When I go up there with those kids, it feels like I'm with you and him again. For every one of them that learns to fly, it feels like a little bit of him lives on in them. But then we touch down, we land, and it kills me inside to watch them all go away because it reminds me that all I'm doing is running, because I don't know how to live in a world where he's gone without pretending that he really isn't."

His voice grows desperate. "I don't know what to do, Kei. I don't know how to get out of this. I don't know how to stop hurting, I don't know how to deal with this alone-"

She embraces him fiercely, enough to force the air from his lungs.

"So don't do it alone. Share your pain with me."

He weakly tries to pry her off, to no avail. "Stop, Kei. This didn't work the first time, it won't now either."

"No, Blaze, it will. Because now we're not running from it anymore. Now we know that we're together because we're broken inside. We're together not to help each other forget what we've lost, but to embrace it."

He shakes his head. "I can't. I can't love you. I can't take you away from the life you wanna live. I can't use you to make myself feel better." He manages to push her away, but his hands still tentatively grasp her shoulders.

"And then what?" she asks. "You'll go on the way you are now? Suffering by yourself until the day you break? No. I won't let you. I can't lose you too."

"So then what?!" he shouts, unable to hold back. "Am I supposed to just try and be together with you again?! To just go back to pretending I'm okay?! To just accept the fact that I can't live without you?!"

Kei responds by gently pulling him back into their embrace. His head resting on her shoulder, she whispers into his ear, "You can start by crying, if it helps."

Blaze starts to protest, but the words die on his lips as the first tear flows unbidden. He clutches her desperately as he begins sobbing, hands clawing at the back of the one woman who understands the pain he feels. When he can't cry anymore, he still heaves and gasps, his lungs aching as he feels the weight on his heart crushing his chest. But the more he lets himself go, the more he feels that weight begin to lighten. And as his catharsis continues, he doesn't notice Nagase doing the same as she massages his back and whispers reassurances into his ear. She tries to focus only on comforting the broken man in her arms, but as tears force their way past her eyes squeezed shut, she decides to take her own advice and hugs Blaze with a bit more selfish intent.

Nine years of running, of hiding from the grief. Nine years of pretending that they were honoring his memory, not haunted by it. Nine years of tears unshed. No more.

When the two have finally spent all they have, they continue to hold each other in silence. The sky above has softened into a golden color as evening begins.

"Is it really okay for me to be this selfish?" Blaze hoarsely whispers.

"That's what love is, Blaze," Nagase murmurs. "It's greed. Letting yourself be a burden to the people who care about you when you feel like you can't go on by yourself. Believing that they want to be there for you because they hate to see you suffer alone."

"Are you telling me you love me, Nagase?"

She sighs, but it's out of pondering, not exasperation.

"Whether what we have for each other leads to something... more, well, we'll see. But I will love you properly this time, Blaze. I'll make sure that when you face the demons you have, I'll be there by your side."

She plants a soft kiss on the corner of one of his eyes. "It's what I promised, after all."

The two finally break their embrace, pulling back to look at each other. And when Nagase sees his hair all messy and his eyes red, she starts to giggle uncontrollably, much to Blaze's confusion.

"What?" he asks.

Between breaths, Nagase manages to gasp out, "Your face. It- it looks like-," she tries to compose herself and fails miserably, a rare occurrence for the usually stoic Nagase, Blaze thinks. "Do you- do you remember your birthday? Back in 2010?"

"2010? Yeah, I remember-" Realization hits him, and he looks at Nagase with a grumpy expression, which only makes her laugh more.

"Yeah, I remember," he repeats in a more annoyed tone. "How could I forget being woken up in the middle of the night by you and Chopper, telling me that we had to report to Bartlett ASAP for an emergency flight? Getting me all dressed in my flight suit and escorting me to what I thought was the briefing room..."

"Only you were too tired to notice we weren't kitted up with you, never mind that we were dragging you to the mess hall. The look on your face when we burst through the doors, only for the lights to flick on-"

"And just in time for Chopper to pie me in the face with the first slice of cake." Blaze grimaces. "To the amusement of all the other trainees in Wardog. Good thing I was too tired to get that mad."

"True, you fell asleep ten minutes into the party, which means you missed Bartlett barging in and yelling at all of us to get our asses back to our rooms."

"You know, I kinda remember that. I was half-awake, but you and Chopper were carrying me back to my room while Bartlett chased us down, right?"

"We ended up hiding in a broom closet, and planned on laying low for an hour or so-"

"Until we fell asleep by accident and woke up the next day to an MP standing over us. Apparently we were the only ones missing from that morning's training mission, and Bartlett had been turning the base upside down looking for us."

"We got stuck with midnight CAP for a whole two weeks after that. It wasn't that bad until Chopper started singing his rock n' roll songs halfway through the first week. He said it kept him from falling asleep at the stick."

"Well it sure did a good job of keeping us awake too. What I wouldn't have given to have a way to short-circuit his radio, though."

Nagase smiles fondly. "He was always such a motormouth, wasn't he?"

Weakly, but warmly, Blaze returns it. "Yeah. He really was."

Once more, silence takes the two. But while the pain they feel at his memory doesn't subside entirely, remembrance fills them with warm nostalgia rather than somber regret. Where there was once emptiness between them, there is now a bridge. Not quite a closing of the gap, not yet. But with time, perhaps, that rift too will heal. For as the two continue to enjoy this moment of pause, they know that they've taken their first step towards that future.

After nine long years of running from the truth, Razgriz 1 can, at long last, begin his journey home.

The man once known as Blaze pulls Kei back in for another warm hug, and the two feel the slow beating in each other's chests fade together into one cohesive rhythm.

As if crossing a threshold, he sighs in contentment, glad that his memory of her hasn't faded enough that he can't call this feeling familiar. He closes his eyes and is reminded of that old saying:

Home is where the heart is.

=

Yo fanbase, you still alive?

Hey everybody, first off I'd like to give a big thank you to everyone who read, favorited, followed, and reviewed Backseat Driver. It was my first Ace Combat fanfiction and my second fanfiction ever, so all the support you've given me has been really heartwarming to see (read: it helps keep my huge ego inflated lol). I've got a few more short stories in the works so keep an eye out for those!

Last but not least, here's a small epilogue of sorts to this story that I put back here to separate it from the rest of the plot. It doesn't really fit with the theme of "homecoming" established so far so it's up to you if you think it's really "canon" or not, but if you like a bit of fluff give it a whirl.

Thanks again for all your support!

=

December 31, 2019

If there's one thing Trigger hates, it's tight spaces with lots of people. This pub reminds him that places like this are why he prefers to spend a night like this staying in at his apartment.

Of all the places Count could've picked, why did he decide to go to Oured's most popular joint on New Year's Eve...

Not that Count was in any position to explain, what with him already halfway to passed-out after a few beers. Who knew he was such a lightweight?

Trigger was trying to muscle his way to the counter to get Huxian a stronger drink when out of the corner his eye, he spies a familiar head of dark hair. He stops and tries to get a closer look, to confirm what he saw.

No, mistaking it, that's him!

Trigger excitedly begins to make his way over to him.

"Pops-!" he calls, but stops short.

The man is with a group of three other people, and from the looks of it they seem to be very close as they laugh and joke together. But what made Trigger stop in his tracks is how different his teacher looks. His face looks the same as when he'd last seen him, but the subtle upturn at the corner of his eyes and the wider length of his smile makes him look far happier than he's ever seen him.

Trigger also doesn't miss how close he is with the woman he's sitting with. They aren't exactly making contact with each other, but the way they're leaning slightly into each other says everything.

Trigger smiles, happy for his teacher. It seems that whatever had been weighing on his soul has lightened up a bit, and in no small part thanks to the people around him.

Wait, isn't she that astronaut? The one I met after-

A pair of arms snake around Trigger's waist as someone presses into his back. "Hey, handsome. Come here often?" The warm breath of a whisper tickles his ear.

Still smiling, Trigger turns around to face the person behind him and, saying nothing, presses his lips against theirs. After a good few seconds of that, he breaks off for air, opening his eyes to meet those of his most trusted partner, who's wearing quite the blush along with a jackal's smile.

"Well, now, how unlike you to be so forward. The alcohol sinking in?"

Laughing, Trigger shakes his head. "No, it's not like that. Just saw something nice."

"Care to show me? I need something wholesome to clear my mind after coming back from the bathroom to find the other half of our double date macking on each other drunk."

Trigger frowns. "Great. Now I'm thinking about it." He turns his head to gesture over to where he saw his teacher, "They're right over-" but stops short as his eyes are caught by a different sight.

The first thing he notices is his flight suit, which sticks out against the far wall of the bar and against his wildly out-of-regs hair, gelled loosely and combed back like an old-school rockstar. But the strangest thing about this stranger is his lovingly goofy grin as he watches over Trigger's teacher.

The stranger notices Trigger staring and makes eye contact with him. With a sly wink, he presses an index finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

"Sweetheart?" Trigger turns back to his partner. "What's wrong?"

"I- there's- do you see that guy? The one in the flight suit, next to the wall-"

Trigger turns around to find the stranger gone. No, it's like he was never there.

"Trigger? Are you okay?" Trigger faces his partner's worried expression.

Shaking his head with a smile, he places a hand on his partner's cheek. "Maybe those beers are getting to me. Just thought I saw someone I knew. That's all," he says reassuringly before moving in for another kiss.

Surprisingly, though, his partner halts his advances with a hand over Trigger's lips. "Now, hold on just a sec. While I am enjoying you getting all kissy, I'm gonna have to ask you to hold off for a bit."

Trigger pouts cutely. "And why is that?"

With a grin, his partner gestures to the nearest TV. Trigger looks to on screen where live footage is playing of the Ball, hanging from the clock tower in Bana City. The timer on the bottom of the screen reads only ten seconds left. Only now does he hear the sound of everyone else in the pub counting down.

Trigger turns back to his partner. "Always with the theatrics, you."

"Says Mister Three Strikes. Flown through any tunnels lately?"

Wrapping an arm around his partner's neck, Trigger's smile turns gentle as he leans in. "What can I say? Being with you always makes my heart race. Guess I just like returning the favor."

As the countdown reaches zero, the two welcome in another year for the world the same way they helped save it: together.