When the hand grabbed her wrist, pulling her from the deep nothing, when her vision had been filled with the long, red hair and panicked blue eyes, she hadn't believed it. But she'd wanted to.
The others were with him and the others needed to be saved, so she couldn't ask him, couldn't pull him aside, couldn't say that she had been right, that she had been scared, that she was glad he was back. But she'd wanted to.
Afterward, when everyone had thanked him and praised him and clapped him on the back, she hadn't. But she'd…
She tried to forget about the way his mouth had quirked to the side as he handed Colette over to Mithos. She couldn't look at his eyes at all for days, even when she glared at him and his wandering hands, for fear she would see that wounded, angry spark ignited again. He had meant what he had said. She alone knew how true his words really were and that shamed her, that she hadn't seen it coming. That she hadn't tried to help him. That she hadn't thought it could possibly be an act. That she believed he would really betray them like that.
He noticed, of course. It didn't stop him from teasing her, but he noticed.
Eight days later, they were resting, having stopped for the night. Genis was on guard with Regal. Presea was watching the fire and Raine was reading. Lloyd and Colette were sitting close together, talking quietly. They were never far from each other anymore, rarely touching but always side by side. Zelos was laying on his mat with his hands behind his head. She had been watching the firelight flicker gold against the red of his hair until he turned to look at her and she realized she was staring. Stammering something about firewood, she slipped away from that thoughtful gaze.
But he had followed. She wasn't exactly surprised to look up from gathering branches to see him with a few sticks under one arm, his free hand resting on his hip.
"What do you want?" she asked, trying to make it the same as always, trying to get rid of the expectant look on his face.
"Can't a guy be helpful for his favorite hunny?" he asked, glorious smile visible even in the shadowy moonlight. But he was still standing there. She straightened, her own bundle of firewood in front of her chest, between the two of them.
"You don't do 'helpful'," she accused. Even that shamed her, even if it had been true up until the moment when she had stopped falling and looked up to see that familiar, infuriating, unexpected face, twisted in fear for her life.
"That was weak," he tutted, unimpressed with her response. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "What is it that's on your mind?"
"Not whatever's on your mind," she retorted, feeling a bit vindicated in that he did leer roguishly at her words. He was a pervert. She was allowed to be mad at him. But he didn't go away or try to get any closer. Well, much closer.
"C'mon, what's wrong? You seem like you've been down in the dumps lately."
"Maybe it's your face." She would make this work. She would.
"Hey, don't get mad." He wouldn't let it work.
"I can take care of myself," she snapped. Rude, even for them. She picked up more sticks. So did he.
"You've been like this ever since Lloyd saved Colette." Everything else was a barrier.
"Oh?" She didn't look at him.
"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet.
"What are you apologizing for?" Gruff. Not looking at him.
But then a hand came to rest on her arm. Just her arm and not anywhere else. She froze.
"I believe in moving on, y'know? Onwards and upwards, what's done is done, not crying over spilt milk, hakuna matata, all that stuff."
His hand left her shoulder as she straightened accusingly.
"How can you just…" But she stopped when she saw the way he was staring blankly into the distance, brow furrowed in concentration.
"But it's hard sometimes. There's things that you can't just forget, can't just forgive."
His gaze focused and met hers.
"I'm sorry. I know that all really hurt."
He scratched at the back of his head uncertainly, a movement she had never seen from him before he had met Lloyd.
"I wouldn't blame you if you hated me," he said, looking at his feet.
"I don't hate you," she retorted, a little too loudly. "Now stop throwing yourself a pity party."
He grinned at her then, the grin that sent hoards of girls into tizzies at the mere mention of it, and she realized that he had won. She was forgiven.
"Same to you, my voluptuous hunny. Wouldn't want you to go all saggy with worry, now would we?"
She smacked him and made him carry all the firewood back to camp, but that night, as they both were wrapped in their blankets on opposite sides of the fire, she stared at the back of his head until he rolled over. Lloyd and Genis seemed to be having a competition as to who could snore louder. He raised an eyebrow when he met her gaze across the way.
'I'm sorry,' she mouthed at him, not letting the sound escape her lips. The smile that tugged at his lips was nearly lost to the firelight before it turned lecherous. He raised the corner of his blanket and patted the ground beside himself and she turned away without even glaring at him.
That night, she dreamed of his hand in hers, strong and callused from his sword hilt, hauling her up from the pit of doubt. It might not be right away, but she would forgive him and forgive herself. She would trust herself to trust him. Because she wanted to.
A/N: It took me killing Zelos on my first playthrough to really care about him. And even in the 'good' situation, I imagine that his 'betrayal' really hurt to those who cared about him. Even if that was all an act, that hurt can still take time to forgive.