A(nother) Brief A/N: First of all, I'd like to give a sincere thank you to each and every wonderful person who's left me a review on this tale so far; it means more than I can possibly hope to articulate in this little top-chapter ramble. Writing lately has been sluggish due to academic mauling, but I'm proud to say that I FINALLY got this chapter in some semblance of order. It's still a bit shy of full-length, but that'll come in time.

Now, on to the story. We'll see how this goes (it'll get a plot soon I SWEAR NO REALLY).

Saving the world and fixing it are entirely different matters.

Lloyd had been naïve once, clinging hopelessly to the false belief that some miracle cure existed for the planet and all its woes. Defeating Mithos was like defeating the evil of the world; finally cleansed of the dark shadow looming over it, Aselia's people—both those of Sylverant and Tethe'alla— would be able to live in peaceful, happy coexistence forever, just as things were meant to be.

It would be a world of no sacrifices, no discrimination, no hatred…

"Lloyd, hey, wait u—OOF!" Colette's distant cry was abruptly cut off by a yip of surprise, and he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the girl unceremoniously trip over her own shoes, windmill frantically, and collapse on her rear.

"… That's the fifth time today," he mumbled half-heartedly to himself, striding back to where his lagging companion had fallen, and offered her a hand. "Are you sure you don't want to wait back at the Inn, Colette? I doubt this will take very long—"

"O-oh, no, no!" But she cut him off, hasty to get back on her feet and (attemptively) brush off the street grime from her clothing. "I'm fine! Sorry! Just a little stain or two, that's all..."

The holy white fabric seemed impossible to keep clean in a place like this; scanning over her (hopelessly buried) figure, a part of him wondered why she still insisted on the color. It felt… like misplaced symbolism, and he didn't like it.

"All right, then," Lloyd conceded with a sigh, turning to start off in the direction he'd previously abandoned once more. "Keep a lookout for the sign I told you about. I think it should be around somewhere along this street."

She nodded swiftly, smiling and determined as always. "Roger!"

They continued down the shabbily paved street and, sure enough, managed to locate their target with practiced efficiency. It was well disguised, Lloyd noted; anyone who didn't know better would just label the place as just another struggling hole-in-the-wall, probably inhabited by a squatter peddling useless trinkets. The building's sandy exterior was cracked, flaking like dry skin in a desert and riddled with holes. Only a feint sparkle of scarlet jingling under the door handle betrayed its true motives.

"Hopefully this'll be quick," he mumbled, glancing back to Colette as she caught up (lagging was a talent she excelled at). "Ready?"

"Ready!" she chirped. They exchanged a brief nod, and Lloyd made a beeline for the door.

"Thirty-thousand."

"W-WHAT?!"

"Thirty-thousand, and not a cent less."

"…But last week it was only--"

"Yeah, well this isn't last week, so take it or leave it. Merchandise is getting harder to—"

The conversation abruptly ceased at the sound of bells, and both men jerked their attentions toward the suddenly-open doorway. Sharp mid-day sun poured in from behind the pair who stood in it.

"... You need something, boy?" the more authoritative man (who could only be assumed as the operation's frontrunner) snarled defensively. Lloyd, unfazed, merely smirked and—

"We're looking for exspheres!" Colette blurted cheerfully, "so—u-um, do you know where we could find some?"

… and slapped his palm against his forehead. Hard.

"Colette…"

Immediate pandemonium broke out among the culprits.

"SHIT, IT'S THEM!"

"THIS IS A GOD DAMN RAID ISN'T IT?!"

"SHUT UP AND RUN—"

It was only when Lloyd drew his blades and pointed them against the foreman's throat that the chaos died down, eclipsed by an eerie (and undoubtedly awkward) still.

"… You're trafficking black market exspheres." It wasn't a question, but a deadpan statement of truth. The man at his blade point nodded frantically, fish-eyed and making a noise that sounded as though he'd choked on his own throat. "We're shutting you down. Do you understand?"

Again, a frantic nod.

"… Good. Now hurry up and bring them out here." For emphasis, he tilted his blade just slightly, making certain his 'victim' saw the glint of its polished razor-edge. "All of them. And be quick about it; I'm not feeling patient today."

"A-About before—"

"Colette, it's—"

"I ruined everything with my big mouth and—"

"Really, that's en—"

"I'm so sorry, Lloyd! I didn't mean to—"

"I said that's ENOUGH!" Their silverware clattered sharply as his hand hit the table, and neither spoke for what felt like a long time. Colette's mouth opened briefly, then closed, vaguely resembling a fish out of water as she tried and failed to respond. For a moment Lloyd was tempted to do the same, but hastily coughed into his hand and stared off toward the windows instead. Never mind that the glass was too dusty to see through.

"I mean… there's nothing to apologize for," he muttered as levelly as he could, pretending that his previous outburst had never happened. "You did your best. We got what we came for, and that's all that matters, right?"

"R-Right…"

He knew that she was smiling, even without looking at her, just like he knew that she was forcing it for his sake alone. Again there was silence, and then…

"Hey, um… Lloyd?..."

"Yeah?"

"Have you been feeling okay?"

"Huh?" In an instant the dusty glass had been forgotten. Lloyd was staring right at her now, face a mix of bleak surprise and confusion. "What do you mean?"

'W-Well, I…" She was fumbling with her words (and a soup spoon on the table): both sure signs of unnerving. The smile she'd forced before had dissolved completely. "I mean, you just seem a little… different, lately."

"… Really." The word was surprisingly unlike a question. His only saving grace was the girl's failure to notice this.

"Well, you've been sort of quiet and…"

"And?"

"A-And—"Cold. Distant. Bitter. Withdrawn. There were so many words Colette wanted to say, desperately, yet all of them were held back: contained behind tight-pressed lips and swallowed back into her oddly-dry throat. "And… sad," she finished bleakly, then hesitated, adding on. "You know, if you ever need someone to talk to… I'm here, Lloyd. You don't have to be alone. Please, never forget that."

There was silence again for what seemed like a short eternity, but then he suddenly rose from his seat, brushed off his shirt (of what, she couldn't gather) and smiled. Relief flooded into her the moment he first spoke.

"… Thanks, Colette. Anyway, I'm gonna go ahead and get rid of those exspheres properly now, so… I'll meet you back at the Inn in a little while, alright?"

"Alright!" she chirped, waving him off as he headed for the door, carrying their bag of recent 'spoils' (which the merchants had so kindly packaged for them) casually over one shoulder, "um… have fun! A-and remember not to forget!"

"… Gotcha."

She only caught a glimpse of his back before the door swung open and slammed shut, stirring a thin miasma of dust down from the glass windowpanes.

"Quite the friend you got there, hun'." The sudden rasp of the waitress startled Colette back to reality, nearly jumping out of her seat as the older woman appeared from out of nowhere (or at least the back of the kitchen) with a pad in one hand and a cigarette in the other. "Sorry for the wait there; we had a little problem with the coffee maker out back—ol' thing kept makin' the pots too bitter."

"O-Oh no, it's no problem at all!" the latter squeaked, flapping a hand dismissively. "… I'll have an omelet, please."

"And t'drink?"

"Mmm, tea, please…"

"Fair warning on that though; we're fresh 'outta sugar. That artificial sweetener's all we got left 'til tomorrow."

"That's alright."

"Okay then. I'll get that order out as quick as I can, hun'. You just sit tight."

Colette sat tight. She sat there patiently with her fingers woven in her lap, humming an innocent song until the promise of food was fulfilled. She still maintained the tune as she ate, if only in her head, and finished the last scraps from her plate just as the first hints of pre-sunset redness stained a darkening overhead sky. Despite a noticeable chill in the air, she smiled as she walked through the streets.

"I'm back!" she chirped, knocking at the door of the room they had called home for the past two nights. "You should have stayed a little longer, Lloyd; they have really delicious o—"

The door creaked open.

Colette's voice died suddenly in her throat.

… And the world came to a grinding halt.

"L-Lloyd?..."