Celena closed her eyes as the breeze lifted the ringlets around her face. Her hair was growing out again, although she despaired of it ever being longer than her brother's. She seemed to have lost the trick of caring for it, somehow.
"Allen?"
"Yes, Celena?"
She didn't look at him. "Where was I?"
"Where were you?"
He was stalling for time, she knew. She had asked the question several times over the past year, and he always stalled before answering, even though his answer was always the same. He would say that she had been taken by Zaibach, that she was gone for ten years, that he wasn't certain about what happened when she was gone. She wouldn't believe him, not entirely. He still had the same lying face he used to have when they were children, the one where the muscles hardly moved and his gaze was fixed straight ahead. He knew more than he was revealing.
"When I was gone. When I was a prisoner. Where was I?"
"It pains me to talk of this."
"Does it?" She opened her eyes and lay back in the grass. "It seems so far away to me. Like I wasn't even there."
A glance over showed her brother staring in front of him.
"The nightmares aren't so terrible anymore," she offered.
"Your screaming hasn't stopped."
"I've gotten used to it."
Allen bowed his head and rested his clenched fists on his knees.
"It's not your fault," she said. "We'd played hide-and-seek hundreds of times in that field. You couldn't know."
"I should have saved you."
"How could you? You didn't even know where I was."
"I should have."
"Why?"
Silence.
"Allen, please. Where was I? It hurts, trying to remember."
"Don't try!" he snapped. "Don't try to recall that time!"
"Allen..."
"They changed you," he said, his voice raw. "I don't want you trying to remember who you were. It might..."
"...change me back?"
A flash from a dream. A startled face.
"Brother, was Folken Fanel there? Was he part of the change?"
"You remember?"
"A disconnected memory. It doesn't seem to fit."
Allen sighed. "He was there. But he wasn't part of the change. He didn't know you were Celena."
"Ah, I see. All along I've been asking the wrong question." She sat up. "Who was I?"
He brother smirked in begrudging admiration of her persistence. "His name was Dilandau. He was a warrior, ruthless. The opposite of you. We...we fought."
"We fought?"
"No!" Allen grasped her shoulders. "I fought him. Not you. Never you." He pulled her forward and held her close. "I should have recognized.... Something in the voice. Something."
"And Folken?"
"He fought beside Dilandau."
"Were we friends?"
"Dilandau"—the emphasis on the name was as strong as Allen could make it—"had no friends."
"I...he would have been lonely."
Allen's only response was to squeeze her tighter.
That night she woke up and saw a familiar person standing beside her bed.
"It's Folken, isn't it?"
He nodded.
"Allen told me about Dilandau."
"I waited until you knew. It would only have confused you to see me before."
"Why are you here now?"
"To offer my regrets. And my aid."
Celena looked at him quizzically.
"I can help keep the nightmares away."
"To sleep without nightmares...I hardly remember.... Thank you," she smiled, and was pleased when he returned it. "Were we friends? Dilandau and you?"
"Almost," he said. "Not quite."
"You and I would have been."
"We will be. For now, sleep."
Celena yawned. "Will I see you again?"
"Whenever you wish it. I'll be watching over you."
An overwhelming tiredness came over Celena, and her eyes drifted shut.
She dreamed of angel wings.
