Noel trailed behind Quistis, wishing she would let him keep up. "Come on, talk to me! They can't just demote you for no reason!"

"They can and they did."

"Why? What changed? Was it the last mission? They can't take you down for one small misstep!"

"There's no point asking – it's been done."

"That's not the point! The Quistis I knew would never accept the chopping block like this. Is it about that kid?"

"It's not about Squall."

"Oh, it's Squall, now? Not Leonhart? What changed that?"

"We're equals now. And I'm starting to think you're jealous."

"Not jealous." Noel grabbed her shoulder and forced her to face him. "Just worried."

He waited for Quistis to join him. They didn't talk as much anymore, but Noel still looked forward to their interactions – Quistis provided reason and grounding when he couldn't find it in himself, his students, or his peers.

The diner Noel sat in was one of Balamb's go-to places to eat, as evidenced by the black-clad students filling most of the dozens of tables. Above them, Selphie Tilmitt and her small band drummed out a pleasant tune accompaniment by flute and guitar. The air was warm with the smell of fresh food, which made Noel's stomach rumble as a reminder that he hadn't eaten since breakfast and it was already well into the afternoon.

Being around so many warm bodies reminded him of wandering Academia's streets and wondering how so many people could live in one place. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember how he came to know of that place.

"Bit of a difference, isn't it?" Noel asked as Quistis took the spot opposite him at the table. "Being Leonhart's advisor now instead of being cut down to size like before."

Quistis allowed him a reluctant smile. "I could do without all the mandatory meetings. You on the other hand… would you turn them down on the spot or hold the position long enough to go completely mad and force them to fire you?"

Noel shrugged. "Might kill one or two. I've always wanted to train Squall, but I guess this means he's better than I am, now."

Quistis pursed her lips. "I wouldn't say that. He's proven himself to be more talented than I would have anticipated, but I'd also mention that he's the headmaster now. The position doesn't require as much battle prowess as it requires a negotiating mind. And he doesn't get a lot of chances to keep himself sharp."

A waitress came by, carrying a plate of cut sandwiches that Noel gratefully accepted and offered to Quistis, who took one. "Greens," she said. "Good choice. Though I'm surprised you didn't go for the crab specialty."

Noel shrugged and set the plate down. "It depends on the day, for me."

"Back to the matter at hand – Squall wants you in Galbadia."

"Galbadia?"

"I've asked to go along but he thinks it would be good for you to improve relations and show some of their new students how it's done."

Noel scarfed down a sandwich. "I don't like working with youngsters. Especially not in a military school."

"I know." Quistis took a breath. "But it might be a good chance to work yourself out, you know. Check out the changes they've made. Beat your insomnia."

"It's not insomnia."

"You're not sleeping and that's the definition of insomnia."

"Insomnia is the inability. I choose not to."

"It would help."

"I doubt it."

Quistis nibbled on a sandwich, face thoughtful. "How long ago did your friend leave?"

"… Four years. Give or take a few weeks."

She shook her head. "Probably forgot at this point."

Noel looked at the food, appetite lost. Cater swore she would return with answers. "I'm better off here, anyway."

"We certainly prefer to keep you, but if you're unhappy, then we should find something better."

"There's no 'we.' It's my own responsibility."

"But do you really have to leave? You have responsibilities here and the students need you. There's this thing with consistency and-"

Noel cut her off, "I have obligations to myself as well. My travels keep me focused, keep me sharp. They keep my… memories at bay. And I can't let my own skills slide if I'm going to provide for the school."

"Maybe." Quistis licked her lips and looked down. "You should know I've been seeing things."

"Yeah, join the club."

"No, I mean…" Quistis took a deep breath and looked him square on. "This man's been talking to me in my dreams."

"Man?"

"Speaks like he's from a hundred years ago. Calls himself Auron." Quistis linked her fingers together and leaned forward. "He claims to be from another world, like your friend, and he's here to rush things along for them. Honestly, Noel, I'm not sure if you should trust these people."

"Why not?"

"Because we don't know what they want." Quistis lowered her voice. "Are they really dead beings or the result of some brainwashing technique?"

Noel worked his mouth for a moment. "What if they confirm what I remember?"

"And what if those memories are planted? If they can speak directly to my mind, how do we know they can't fake your memories? I'm still not convinced that it's not related to the Guardian Force."

"I never used it as much as you all."

"Of course not." Quistis shook her head and leaned away. Picked up to go. "Don't let your guard down. Balamb has suffered too much to deal with a second otherworldly crisis. I have a session, but you'll keep me updated, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks for lunch."

Noel nodded, unable to think of how to respond before she disappeared out the way she came.

He never told her the whole story. He never told her about his life as a hunter or his journey with Serah or his struggles in Luxerion. He never told her because he knew she would listen. Listen and maybe even believe him. And if she believed him, then there wasn't much to keep him from going back. And now she was the one talking about other worlds and presences and all that.

And he was the one that couldn't remember what led to his solitude in Luxerion.

At the thought, he caught a whiff of Serah's perfume and the screaming sound of his blade against Caius'. He remembered his sword sinking into his once-friend's heart and the way the skin broke on impact. He tasted old jerky and the threatening rain of the plains. Serah growing cold in his arms and Hope's shuddering sobs.

But he couldn't remember his mother's face or his sister's favorite poems. He couldn't remember Lightning's purpose or her connection to him. And he couldn't remember when he first met Serah – it was like she just appeared later in his life and suddenly they knew each other like they were siblings.

He finished off the remaining sandwich slice and left his pay on the table before making the way back to his dorm room.

The garden was quiet as he passed, with most students out for the weekend. As it was, those he saw avoided getting too close – ever since that incident with suspending the entire school, the place treated him like he was some advocate to the devil despite the hushed whispers of admiration.

Returning to his room felt like returning home. Or, it felt as close as it would get without finding a way back to Pulse.

The late afternoon light bathed the room in soft shadows thanks to the sheer curtains and set ablaze the bookshelf in which he kept his collected items and trinkets from working with Cater. She gave him one of her pistols, which laid on the top. Crimson lines traced its shape to a wooden handle and he could see evidence of use in the blackened tip.

Near that was the shattered remains of a crystal ornament they found in some caves off the east coast. It looked suspiciously like an artefact, but they never found a gate to correspond to it.

Other items in the shelf included various cards he collected from the cities they visited, along with fossilized wood pieces and shining rocks from the far reaches of the Centra Ruins.

Despite their travels, however, they never found the gates that they both knew would have to crop up for him to travel properly. Cater had told him she would come back once she found them, but that was… a while ago.

He threw himself on the bed and wondered how long it was since he first remembered, when battle made him think that there should be a pink-haired girl beside him. How long had it been since he missed Yeul's chiming laugh at his lame jokes? How long since he regretted facing Lightning in Luxerion? How long since his dormant powers awoke and suspended the school in a bubble of zero gravity?

The room was quiet. Noel covered his eyes with his arm, heart aching. He didn't belong in Balamb, no matter how much they scheduled him in for training. They only kept him because they lost too many of their instructors during the siege. But then, why would the party of former l'Cie want him back? Wasn't it the same issue there, that he only helped because he was there?

How was he necessary for in the grand scheme of things when Lightning and her party could do twice the work in half the time? When they had the powers of l'Cie?

Even Cater must have realized eventually that he was less valuable than the others, if she didn't bother to get him back.

At least Balamb expressed a need for him.

A trilling voice sounded outside – an unfamiliar one – and feet pattered past akin to the footsteps of an animal. But he didn't know anyone outside of Rinoa that used familiars.

"That's odd." The words surprised him – it was months since he last remembered something. "I don't feel it."

He tended to remember things through verbalizing them to himself – he lost control of his mouth and it synced with his brain or something.

"Wait." He stood, the motion seeming natural to him. Looked around. "Is that…"

He didn't actually feel anything, but he imagined a rapid pulse within him, strong and chaotic. "The Heart. It's mine, now."

Caius, bled out before him, showed no life in his eyes.

"I took your curse from you." Noel kneeled beside him, placed a hand on Caius' body to find it cold and without a pulse. "May you rest in peace, old friend."

The power of Etro within him roared with energy and he thought for a moment the rage of it would break through his chest. But instead it filled him with strength and motivated him to keep moving. Something within clicked and his mission became clear.

… Who was Etro?

Noel snapped out of it and returned to his room. Sunlight spilled through the window and he knew mere seconds passed. He was back to himself.

Weird. He couldn't connect that memory with everything else he collected over the past years. Did it really happen? Did it matter?

Noel jumped back to his feet. Quistis was right – no point in a pity party now when he had training rituals to run. He couldn't let the distractions of other lives and worlds take away from the responsibilities of the now.

Irvine enjoyed the time he spent with his friends in Balamb. Even after the fiasco last year and everything that happened before, he didn't think there was any other place he could act so freely and like himself.

He fingered the notes on his sax and beside him, Selphie warmed up on the piano with some extended chords. Zell plucked at the strings of his guitar from where he sat on the couch, and Quistis prepped her bow with rosin before tuning the strings.

"Why don't we do something slow after this one?" Selphie asked. "Might be good for the atmosphere, you know?"

"Ugh." Zell played up an octave. "As long as it's not depressing – I hate that!"

"Slow doesn't mean depressing!"

"It depends on the listener," Quistis reminded them. "But I suspect the owner would be openminded to a change of pace. Why don't we try something romantic?"

"We're already doing a romantic one!" Zell groaned. "What do you want from me?"

Irvine hummed into his sax. "A ballad."

"Ooh." Selphie paused her playing. "One of those wistful ones! You know, with the soft openings and, like, broken endings!"

"I'll talk with the owner," Quistis said. "For now, let's focus on our songs for tomorrow."

Selphie resumed playing. "Has anyone seen Seifer? I haven't heard anything in months!"

"You expect that jerk to talk to you?" Zell asked. "You're insane – he should be dead right now, anyway."

"Not really, I just… I don't know. I feel bad for him."

"Pity," Quistis said, "will not encourage others to maintain a relationship with you."

Irvine finished a string of notes. "I doubt Seifer's the kind to care about any relationship that isn't based on bolstering his pride. Even if he survived what happened."

"You all make him out to be such a villain." Selphie frowned. "But I guess you're right. He doesn't care about any of us."

"Leave Seifer to his gang," Quistis said. "They'll deal with him better than any of us could. If he's still alive."

Irvine's phone buzzed and he set down his sax. "One moment, guys."

Quistis gave him an inquisitive look but he turned away before answering the call. "Yes?"

"Irvine Kinneas," came a familiar voice over the other end.

"Speaking."

"This is Martine Aguamar, Headmaster of Galbadia Garden. I have a mission to assign you."

Irvine glanced to the others, who remained distracted with their instruments. He left the room and walked toward the quietest part of the building. "First of all, I'd like to congratulate you on your reappointment, sir, but I transferred to Balamb when I was assigned to the sorceress and-"

"I'm well aware of your status, Kinneas. But this is something we're to avoid official procedure on."

"Again."

"This time, we're not meddling in the affairs of government."

Irvine found an abandoned lounge and took a seat. "Okay. What is it?"

Hesitation on the other end. "Bear in mind, this is something that I didn't propose myself. In fact, this is more for your own sake. Certain powers have locked onto you and your friends and will take the shot if they get the chance. I would like for you to get this done before these powers have reason to pull something unwelcome."

Irvine's blood ran cold and he rubbed his temple. "What do they want?"

"A target neutralized. Details will be sent to your device once you accept and that will buy Zell some time."

"Zell? Why Zell?"

"No questions yet."

Pressed his lips into a fine line. "… Right."

"I'm going to avoid a war between the gardens. If you do the job yourself, you're the only one to take the fall. Your friends get away scot-free and life goes on as usual for everyone else. Otherwise, they'll make you regret it through the cost of your friends lives, starting with Zell."

"The target will be moved to Galbadia within the next couple of days so book transit here ASAP. Don't breathe a word of this to anyone. Don't trust a single face and don't repeat anything I've said. Understand?"

"… Yes."

"Do you accept the mission?"

He cleared his dry throat. Forced the words out, "I do."

"I've sent the details to your phone. Protect that device with your life and don't use it too often. Look over the report once and delete the file immediately. Follow protocol as if you were back here."

"Yes, sir."

"… Good luck, Kinneas."

The line clicked off and Irvine took a moment to recover his breath.

Eventually the phone chimed and he pulled it open to check messages. Martine sent a file full of all the documentation he expected to see if he were back in Galbadia. Code and guidelines listed first, same as most missions save for an occasional detail to heed in this special case. After that came warnings and protocol for operating on specific grounds. What not to do and all that.

Need-to-know section for the mission's motivation, then finally the mark's profile. Irvine swallowed his disgust and forced himself to memorize the picture.

Noel Kreiss, it read. Instructor of Balamb Garden.

"Irvine?"

He clicked the phone off and looked up with all the smoothness he learned over the years as an operative. "Selphie."

She stood by the wall, arms folded. "I got worried. Did Squall give you something? This was supposed to be our break and-"

"No." Irvine stood and stuffed the phone in his pocket. "No, just an old friend from Galbadia wanting to check in. Would have distracted you guys."

She flashed a grin. "Then you can come help me pick out a ballad! I'm looking at some of the popular ones and I thought you might have a good idea which one people would like best?"

Irvine pursed his lips. "I'm… kind of tired, actually. Head hurts."

Selphie strode over and bent over to look him straight-on. "You don't look so good, either. Let's take you back to your room. Think you'll still be up for our number tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I just…" Irvine stood and Selphie straightened. "I'll be fine. Might take a trip to see people in Galbadia afterward – you know, take advantage of this break as long as it lasts."

Selphie nudged him in the shoulder. "You better – Squall knows not to use our friendship as an excuse to let us off the hook. Sometimes, I even think he likes to make life harder for us than the others."

Irvine forced a smile. "At least he's not as bad as some others."

"He's the worst one I've known! Cid never put us through the ringer and Trabia took good care of its students! If Galbadia is worse, then I'm glad you got here."

"So am I." Irvine looked away. "So am I."