A/N: It never mentioned Relm's mother's name, did it? Well, whatever… Just to let you know, I never planned on long chapters or a very long story in general, but hey, you never know. I might get on a roll.

Disclaimer: You've seen it before, it's not mine. I am utterly broke and am making nothing off of this. Unfortunately.

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 1: Interceptor…?

Shadow didn't know how long he held on to the edge of the airship. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, it could have been days, and in the haze he was in he couldn't really tell. If he really thought about it, it would be hours, but since his fingers were threatening to turn into ice blocks, he had to concentrate all his energy into just holding on. Shadow couldn't climb up onto the railing because of the outward slant of the airship and the lack of handholds. He tried to call for a rope, but the high-altitude winds just ripped his voice away – all he could to was hang on and wait. There were times he thought about letting go, but then Interceptor would just give him this look as if the dog knew what Shadow was thinking.

Nobody seemed to notice Shadow, out of sight as he was, and it was a profound relief when the Falcon lowered to the ground. He stumbled to the side so that he wouldn't get squashed, his legs stiff from disuse. Interceptor leaped off the ship and bounded into a nearby copse of conifers, so Shadow assumed that the dog wanted him to follow.

It was getting dark, and the small forest was more than a bit chilly, but Shadow was used to the cold. His feet made no sound on the forest floor, and it seemed as if he was the only living thing in the entire wood. His mind was centered on the shape he had seen before, just as Interceptor had bounded away, and he had heard the voice. How could it be her? How…?

The huge black dog was just sitting on the dead leaves and bracken, giving Shadow this eerily penetrating look. Not quite knowing what to do and feeling rather foolish, Shadow walked over to Interceptor and sat down across from him.

"God," he said aloud. "I don't really know what to expect. I probably look like a real fool right now –"

Clyde. He looked up, startled. And saw her again.

"Aysha!" Her form was as clear as the last time he had seen her – or not. There was a slight translucency to her, and his eyes found it very hard to keep focus on her for long. But everything else – that same blue and brown dress and her chocolate curls still done up in her loose ponytail. But her hands… as they moved, they blurred around the edges, their form unclear and flowing like water.

Clyde! Why?

He knew exactly what she was talking about, and was ashamed. He rested his face in is hands , if only not to look her in the face. "Aysha, you can't ever understand, you were always so innocent – you can't know even half of the things I've done –"

But I do, she said wryly. You say a lot of interesting things to your dog when you're drunk.

Shadow almost smiled. She still retained her old sense of humor. He raised his head. "But why didn't you tell me you were still alive?"

Even as the question left his lips, he knew the answer. Because I'm not.

"Then why didn't you tell me you were still – here?" God, if he'd known… Things could have been so different, he thought. I wouldn't have been alone. I would have been so much happier. You would have been so much happier. Why did you pretend… didn't you want to be with me? Or were you so disgusted by the way I live?

These mental questions seemed to somehow convey themselves to the ghostly woman in front of him. Because I wanted you to let go! She sounded frustrated. If the dead could 'sound'. You never moved on, Clyde. You're living in the past. You won't live your life. Your holding on to me kept me here. I need to die, Clyde.

"So you're going to leave me, too, like everyone else," he said bitterly. "Nice to know that you care."

No! I do care! I love you! Shadow forced himself to look up at her… face? But it's not right for me to be here, Clyde. I need to move on. And so do you. Live, Clyde.

"Living on others' pain."

It doesn't have to be that way. You chose that path. You chose that path, and I stayed with you anyways. You death-willed yourself, telling yourself that you weren't running away. Weren't you, Clyde? Weren't you? You were just using death as an escape from life.

Having the truth so blatantly shoved in his face hurt more than he would say. "I wanted to start over."

In a new life, you mean? But isn't it better to mend the old instead of throwing it away and getting a new one? Would you throw your daughter away?

"I'm no kind of father. It's too late, Aysha. I fucked up, and she's in Strago's care now. He loves her more than I ever could." He'd been over this to himself a million times over, and always came up with the same answer.

But what about when he's gone? The old man won't live forever, you know. And then where will Relm be? Alone, and an orphan. Do you want that on your shoulders?

"I've had that on my shoulders for ten fucking years!" he stood up and yelled at her. "Do you think I liked it, huh? Do you think I enjoyed wondering what was happening to her, whether she was happy?"

But you didn't do anything, Clyde. You blocked it off, Clyde. 'There are many like me who have killed their emotions', she mocked. 'Remember that.' You were lying to yourself, and you knew it.

He gave up and sat down, deflated. "All right. You're right, I'm wrong. Are you happy now?"

No. Her tone softened. I love you, Clyde. I want you to be happy, and I want our child to be happy. You can change, Clyde, it's not too late. It's not to late…

"Aysha!" he cried out, as she started to fade. "Aysha… don't leave me."

Within a few seconds, all traces that the ghost of his dead wife had been there were gone, and he was sitting alone in the forest with a large, black, perfectly ordinary dog.

"I hope without Aysha's spirit, you're still housebroken." He laughed at his own pathetic joke; laughter that verged on hysteria, but never quite got there.

He stood up slowly and dropped his hood, running his hands through his hair. "What am I going to do now?" he said aloud. "Where am I going to go? Where will I be welcome?" His questions were answered by the loud chik-chik-chiking of an annoyed squirrel.

"I don't know any city called Chik-chik-chik!" he said back to the squirrel, and laughed, truly laughed, for the first time in over ten years.

~*~

Dumb chapter ending, I know… review anyways… if you wanna bother… dotdotdot…