"I guess I should never have expected you to be careful."

Sabin laughed, clearly without remorse as to the worry he had caused his brother. Edgar, however, could only tie the strip of cloth he'd cut away from his own cape around Sabin's forearm, putting all his strength into securing it. He wasn't accustomed to caring for the wounded, the task usually handed down to Figaro's ever dedicated High Priestess, and he was grateful that Sabin hadn't sustained any more than a cut – grateful for Sabin's sake as well as his own.

The blood was quick to stain, a red blotch against fine blue material. It was made for the seat of kings, not as replacement for gauze, but Edgar had long since given up the luxury his station entitled him to. He was a king ally to a thief - a self-proclaimed "treasure hunter", though Edgar didn't quite acknowledge it, much to Locke's chagrin - and assisting in a mission to overthrow the Empire, the government to which he had sworn total allegiance. And his fellow comrades included a brother he hadn't been in contact with for ten years.

Sabin might not have been cut out for the seat of royalty, but he was here, alive, and Edgar, despite constantly being in situations contrary to what his status demanded, couldn't have asked for more.

"You're pretty sloppy there, Edgar," said Sabin with a tone full of glee that reminded Edgar of how the skinny youth used to giggle at his stories while they were huddled together under the covers on Sabin's bed, talking and talking the night away until one of them fell asleep.

"I was never made for this." Edgar patted Sabin's arm, lips in a tight smile, squeezing the muscles under his palm. "Now that you know I'm next to useless when it comes to fixing a tourniquet, don't give me any more chances to show it."

"I'll try."

"It's difficult to believe you when you're smiling like that." Edgar turned and started towards the door. "I'd better let the others know you're okay. Terra in particular was rather upset when her healing magic didn't work as well as she'd expected." She had been exhausted by the time they made it back on the airship, and Edgar himself had told her that he would take care of Sabin and she need not worry. Celes had offered her assistance but Edgar, deep inside him, wanted to care for his brother with his own hand at least once, wanted to relive those days back in the castle when Sabin would come crying to him with a bloody knee.

"I have an itch to jump off this thing and tackle more of those monsters." Sabin flexed his uninjured arm. "This little scratch is nothing. I've seen much worse while training with Master Duncan."

Edgar let out a sigh as he watched Sabin show off the product of his ten-year training. To Edgar, those ten years had been filled with lonely days and even lonelier nights; the sun too hot, the darkness too chilly. He was certain that Sabin's time with his master was much more eventful than his own life within the castle walls - at least, Edgar hoped it was.

"You know, Sabin," he leaned against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest, "you don't have to remind me all the time of how strong you are." Edgar reached out and Sabin blinked in puzzlement as long fingers brushed through his hair. "I've already known that since we were children."

Sabin shrugged, glanced at the bandage. "Don't you remember what the others said about me? Like how I was...you know, weak and all that. I wasn't strong, that's for sure. That's why I got Master Duncan to train me, so I could get all these stupid muscles and get strong."

You haven't changed the slightest, dear brother. "It wasn't necessary."

"Back then it wasn't, but what about now, when we're up against a madman who's trying to destroy the whole world?" Sabin beamed and winked. Only Sabin could crack a smile when addressing Kefka and his insanity like it was nothing. Edgar found his easy-going attitude to be contagious; he gave way to a light chuckle. "It's necessary now that I gotta look out for you," Sabin added. "I can't have you looking out for me all the time."

"Well, it's my job."

"It was. Now it's my turn."

Edgar cocked an eyebrow, smirked. "Playing hero now, are we?"

"If you want to call it that." Sabin laughed and leaned back in the chair, placed his feet on the table. Edgar suppressed another chuckle as he turned to the window. They were high up in the clouds now, leaving behind the Veldt that was now nothing more than a red waste. At the back of his mind he wondered whether Figaro would ever come to know the man his brother had grown up to be, a prince as worthy of the title as Edgar was. How many more days, hours, minutes did they have before confronting their own deaths in Kefka's hands? What would happen to Figaro if its only heirs were to fall in battle?

"Edgar?"

He turned to see Sabin looking at him with curiosity-laden eyes – blue, blue eyes, the symbol of Figaro royalty. There still lay a hint of childish play within those eyes, and Edgar half-wished that he'd kept that too, but the years had not been kind to him.

"You seem worried, Sabin." Edgar rested a hand on his shoulder. "What's the matter?"

Sabin scoffed. "I could say the same to you, really. The last time I saw you may be ages ago, but I can tell if you're thinking hard about something. And I feel like I sort of know what you're thinking about." Sabin rose to his feet. Edgar's hand returned to his side and he looked away; he didn't want Sabin to see that he was afraid, afraid to lose his newly-found friends, Figaro and himself and, most importantly, he didn't want to lose his brother to Kefka's madness.

"Edgar." The feel of Sabin's strong hand on his hip, grip tight and insistent, forced Edgar's eyes back to him. He saw Sabin's easy smile and his heart ached and he willed himself not to reach out and take Sabin's face in his hands and tell him that everything was going to be all right.

"I may not understand politics and running a kingdom and all that," Sabin's hands came up to grasp Edgar's arms, "but I've got your back. That crazy bastard can throw whatever he wants at us and I'll protect you all the way, you can count on that."

And Edgar, realizing too late that the tables had been turned, pulled Sabin into an embrace. It took Sabin a moment to come to terms with the sudden gesture, but he responded with a chuckle, wrapping his arms around Edgar's slim waist. Edgar sighed and Edgar laughed, pressing his nose against Sabin's shoulder.

"Lucky I didn't stay in Figaro or I'd go nuts like you," said Sabin and, in a softer tone, "You've gotten skinnier. Times like this, you've got to take it easy."

"I'll only be able to rest easy after Kefka's gone."

"Then we'll just have to hurry up and kill him and save the world, eh?"

"That's the gist of it." Edgar pulled away, just enough so he could look Sabin in the eye. "You'll be there with me, all the way?"

"Hell if I'm not." Sabin grinned, arms tightening around Edgar. "I'm with you every step of the way. I'd be a pretty lousy brother if I just upped and left you now, right?"

Edgar smoothed a hand over Sabin's hair, a shade darker and rougher than how it used to be. "Thanks, Sabin." They were the only words he managed to utter before he stepped back, forcing himself away from comfort and warmth and everything that reminded him of home. The only words, yet there were so many others that lay dormant on the tip of his tongue.

"We should probably let the others know of your condition," said Edgar, though he didn't want this moment to end and become nothing more than a memory. "It's been too long, they might expect the worst."

Sabin shrugged. "They haven't come barging in." He grabbed Edgar's wrist just as Edgar turned towards the door, halting him in his tracks.

"What is it?" Startled, Edgar could only stare.

"You sure you're all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Edgar eyed Sabin, a little suspicious now of what his brother was having in mind. Sabin only gave him a good-natured slap on the back, almost knocking the breath out of him.

"Just checking. It's my job, remember?" And he flung an arm around Edgar's shoulders and led him out into the salon.