The sky was always the color of a bruise, and none of the maps told them anything. Celes had collected maps in Albrook, and they'd purchased more in Tzen, but the only really detailed ones came from before the cataclysm. The newer ones were less detailed - or sometimes just edits made on top of the older maps - and half of them contradicted the other half. Was Maranda still there? No one knew for sure.

The first night they were reunited, in Tzen, they rented a room at the inn. They had the common room to themselves - few traveled these days anyway, and any travelers had fled Tzen by now. They spread maps across the table, weighting them down with candlesticks from other tables, and talked about what they knew of the lay of the land. Figaro, if it still existed, was across the sea from them.

"We need to get to Figaro," Sabin said. "If Edgar's alive, that's where he went."

"I agree," she said. "With Edgar's help, we'll have considerably greater mobility, and the more of us we can locate, the more information we'll have about the state of the world. I know you have personal reasons to find him, but it's also a wise move."

"Yeah, he's just my twin brother, his logistical importance is obviously... more important."

She didn't seem to care that the sarcasm had fallen flat, looking at her hands on the table. "I didn't mean any offense," she said.

"Hey, it's okay. I knew what you meant. It just... sounded a bit harsh." He barely knew Celes, really.

"I have that problem frequently," she admitted.

No boats sailed from Tzen, anymore. There was a rumor that Nikeah could be reached overland from what used to be the Empire, and some of their maps bore that out. For lack of any better information, they set out to investigate the truth of the rumor, or the accuracy of the maps. There were no chocobos to be had in town, after the mass exodus in the face of Kefka's attack. They set out on foot.

At first they kept quiet, but Sabin had rarely encountered a silence that didn't feel slightly awkward to him, so he slowed his pace to match hers, and began asking questions. At first, she answered tersely, but gradually she seemed to thaw. She told him about her lost year, about Cid, and his death. She changed the subject abruptly after that, asking him about his own childhood, and rather than pry, he told her all the stories that embarrassed Edgar. It was less fun without Edgar there to be embarrassed, but the more he thought about his brother, the more certain he was that Edgar was safe. He just couldn't imagine the alternative.

At nights, they drew close together around the fire, both for physical warmth and to feel less alone. "Sometimes I feel like we're the only survivors," Sabin said, the third night out from Tzen.

"On the island, I thought Cid and I were," Celes said. "That's why I tried to kill myself when he died."

"What?" He was surprised by the mildness of his tone.

"I... threw myself off a cliff. Not very well, apparently. When I survived, I felt like the world was trying to tell me something."

"Well I'm glad you listened!" He threw an arm around her, pulling her tight against his side. "Don't even think about doing that again."

"There aren't any cliffs here," she pointed out, her tone faintly amused.

"Celes, I'm serious."

He felt her sigh more than heard it. "Don't worry. I have no intention of making another attempt." She didn't attempt to move, and after some time, he realized she'd fallen asleep.

It was a week before they encountered any other travelers - a family, this time. They hailed each other warily, but once they drew close enough to establish that neither party meant harm to the other, they shared a midday meal. The woman did most of the talking, while her husband chased the children. "There's a rumor Figaro Castle was swallowed up by the desert," she told them. "The king's vanished. South Figaro's still there."

"Are there any boats that direction?" Celes asked.

"From Nikeah, yes. It's north of here."

"Good, then one of our maps was right."

Sabin had stayed quiet for most of their break. As they resumed their march, Celes watched him uncertainly. He barely spoke until they made camp that evening, and when he did break his silence with more than a grunt, it was with an abrupt "I don't believe it."

"Believe what?"

"The castle. It's not like it was built on quicksand."

"Don't you think it just burrowed? That wasn't a widely-known trait, you can see why people would misinterpret it."

"It'd come back up, though. They couldn't stay down for long. They'd need air."

"Sabin, even if something happened to the castle, Edgar is just as likely to be fine as he was when we set out. Nothing's changed."

"I know," he said, but he didn't sound comforted. Uncertainly, she put her arms around him, and staggered slightly as he slumped against her. "We'll find him," she said. "I'm sure of it."

That night they shared the tent, curled up together. Celes found it hard to sleep that way, but Sabin seemed to be resting, and she could keep a partial watch with her periods of wakefulness. They hadn't made love, but if he did make the first move she doubted she'd turn him down. Locke was very far away, and physical closness was a greater comfort than she'd ever realized.

When they returned to keeping watch in shifts, Celes would slip into the tent in the pre-dawn twilight and lay down next to him until he woke. The next day, she woke to find him next to her. It became their pattern, an unspoken agreement that they'd spend their last moments of sleep curled together. Sometimes she wondered if she should reach out, if he left their closeness at this out of consideration for her, but in the end, she didn't quite have the courage to change things.

In some ways, she dreaded reaching Nikeah. Partly for fear that they'd find another dead end, or worse, confirmation of Sabin's fears; and partly because, no matter what they found, things would change then.