Thank you, thank you, thank you for those that reviewed. I really love getting nice ones, and thankfully, everyone's was. I honestly appreciate it, guys—you're the best. I hope I don't disappoint in the future. :)

I want to clear things up. I have not finished Golden Sun: The Lost Age. I have come close, as I am at the Mars Lighthouse, but it's been months since I've really sat down and given it my all. I apologize if my details are off, but I did come across some spoilers and now I pretty much know how the story ends. I am using only some of those details, however, and my story is mostly independent from what actually happened in the game.

Furthermore, if you don't like the story, don't read it. Not to be a betch or anything.

On with the show.

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It was a cold night. Champa was good at that, shifting from over 100 degrees in the middle of the day to nearly below zero at night. If they lived in a desert, it would have been normal—expected, even. But they didn't. They lived on the coast.

Jenna thought that over when she walked home after departing from Mrs. Poccoui's. She had two large bags filled with fruits and vegetables from the woman's own garden. The next morning Mrs. Poccoui would come over to Jenna's to show her how to make her own garden so she would stop filching from others'.

She turned the last corner and was on the final stretch to her house. She lived on a small cliff that overlooked the marketplace below, with a dirt path precariously situated along the very edge. She tried not to lose her balance by keeping her gaze on the ground and focusing on not spilling any food.

When she was in the clear and her house was only about a hundred feet away, she looked back up. Something caught her gaze, something that wasn't there before, and she strained her eyes trying to see what—or who—it was.

The person or thing was half in shadow and appeared to be facing away from her. Jenna was careful to step lightly and not on anything too—

Under her foot a small twig snapped. The figure twisted around, entirely too fast to be a normal human, and was now obviously zeroed in on her.

Jenna knew she looked like a deer in headlights, clearly devoid of any courage or special powers… exactly the effect she was going for. If the figure thought her to be a regular human, it wouldn't exert too much energy in running over to kill her.

Or so she hoped.

The thing began walking toward her, which was a small relief—it didn't run on four legs or crawl or slither. It was walking, quite calmly, in her general direction.

Jenna felt the panic creep over her. Her grip on the fruit and veggies loosened and she clutched them tighter, like a life vest. "Who-who are you?" she called out, the fear shaking her voice.

The figure did not respond. It only kept walking.

Fight or flight.

Jenna chose flight.

She dropped the bags to the ground and set off like a bolt in the other direction. She flew down the steps along the side of the cliff, too scared to have any real caution, and darted for the caves. If worst came to worst she could hide herself in one of the small caverns, behind a stack of crates or barrels. Or perhaps she could even hide in the Avimander's hole. Something told her the figure was a hell of a lot worse than any Avimander.

She tugged the heavy wooden door open and slammed it shut behind her. When it was latched and locked, she went down the nearest hallway and down the following stairwell and into a small storage room. She locked the door behind her and collapsed to the floor, only now falling apart.

Sobs began to issue forth and she clutched her arms around her chest. Nothing in her life had ever frightened her so completely, a fact she was loath to admit to herself. After all, she was fearsome, fearless Jenna. She would protect and serve her friends and family to the ends of the earth. Or, well, before she left.

She could take on any creature, be it Avimander or wyvern or scorpion. Jenna of Vale was a warrior.

And now she was crying in a storage room because she saw someone outside her house.

She wiped her eyes on her hand and said thickly, "Pathetic." It was all that needed to be said.

Her fire was gone. She was a half-assed Adept. She wasn't angry or sad anymore. She felt nothing that could be used to fuel her fire. She fled to Champa, a fishing village, because she couldn't stand up to her brother about their parents. The old Jenna would be angry with this new Jenna, this gray and tired Jenna. At age twenty she was already broken, her youth gone like a snuffed-out candle.

But to defend herself, just a little bit, there was something about that person that made her bones feel like ice. She couldn't see anything that identified the figure definitely, but she could feel it in her toes: she did not want to be alone with that person under any circumstances.

A new wave of self-pity washed over Jenna and she felt the tears come again. Funny that: being able to produce tears but not a flame big enough to light even a candle.

She wept into her knees that night.

She cried for herself, for her brother, for her parents. She cried for her cowardice, for Felix's uncharacteristic cruelty, for Isaac's uneasy kindness. Each bout of tears brought on more and she cried like she never had before. The old Jenna wouldn't allow herself to cry, not ever; all the new Jenna ever did was cry.

That thought made her cry more.

---v---v---v---v---v---

The next morning, she woke to the feeling of her back and legs in agony.

An hour later she staggered out of the storage room, her hair a mess and her clothes rumpled and still damp. Despite the strange looks of the sailors and fishermen retrieving their supplies from the various rooms, she left the caves and made it home.

The bags that she dropped were gone.

When she pushed the door in, it swung open easily. That meant Mrs. Poccoui was in the kitchen. She could smell something cooking, something extremely good. When she passed the doorway to the said kitchen, she was the large bags against the wall but no Mrs. Poccoui. She shrugged it off—she was probably using the facilities or at her own house.

Jenna trudged up the stairs and called out into the house just in case, "I'm home. Mrs. Poccoui?"

No answer.

She rubbed her eyes and noticed how tired and filthy she was. Yesterday's sweat was not a good scent on anyone.

Before she could ready her bath, someone knocked at her door. Jenna folded a towel over her arm and jaunted down the stairs to the front door. Upon opening it, she was confronted with Mrs. Poccoui.

"Ah, Jenna-mou, you are awake now?" the woman asked grumpily as she pushed past the girl. "You have visitor at inn. He ask for you last night, very late indeed."

"Is it Isaac?" Jenna asked. She wasn't sure how she felt about seeing him again so soon.

"No, dear, this man haf blue hair. Long. Pale eyes. Very strange. Very quiet."

Jenna frowned. Could it be Piers? That was the obvious answer, of course, considering—no. Don't even think his name.

"Will he be staying long?" she asked.

"No say," the older woman replied. "He just ask for Jenna and I tell him you leef here. He come by here last night, no? He said he saw you but you ran away. Why you do that?" The woman looked up at Jenna accusatorily, hands on her wide hips.

That made no sense. That figure scared the living crap out of her, but Piers never did. Sure, there was a side of him that he kept hidden from everyone, but Jenna always had a notion that he would never do anything to hurt any of them… least of all her. No, it had to be someone else, someone she didn't know.

Jenna brushed it off and smiled at her elder. "Thanks for making that dish, Mrs. Poccoui. It smells like heaven."

The tiny woman was confused. "I not been here since last week, Jenna-mou. I only just came to help you with garden, but that now must wait until visitor gone. Is only polite." She waved her hands in a shooing gesture. "Go, take bath and eat food. Look pretty for this stranger; he handsome man. Maybe he ask you for marriage!" Mrs. Poccoui let out a hoarse laugh and left abruptly, leaving Jenna thoroughly puzzled.

Someone had to have broken into her house, then. But if they broke in, why did they cook her food? Why not take something? She obviously had numerous rare artifacts and weapons that would go for thousands if sold to the right merchant. This made no sense whatsoever.

Jenna's feeling of unease grew as she took in the scent of whatever it was that was sitting in the kitchen. She stepped into the small room and examined the pottery—it looked foreign, definitely not of Champan descent—and the food inside, which was light brown and gelatinous in texture. She poked her finger in it and withdrew a taste.

Whatever it was, it was sweet and a little spicy. She had heard of a spice from far-off Kalay—cinnamon, she believed—and decided she enjoyed it. She pulled out a bowl and a spoon and served herself some more.

Jenna took her snack out to her front porch. She didn't know why, but the uneasiness began to dissipate. She was now convinced that the food was left by that mysterious stranger and yes, she even let herself be a little flattered that someone took the time to make her something and bring it to her home, whoever he was. Perhaps she would even wander over there now…

She finished her pudding and took the bowl inside. Before she left she took the liberty to change into something a bit prettier than her work shorts and top. Luckily, it was early morning and the sun wasn't quite so blistering and she could afford to wear something that actually looked nice without worrying about overheating.

When she left her house, she was wearing a skirt and sleeveless top. Her hair was still up, but artfully styled. She looked good, and she didn't know what possessed her to strive to be something so trite.

There were a quite a few paths to the tavern, and she chose to take the long scenic one along the cliff. Jenna allowed herself to stroll, which she would never be allowed to do three years ago. If one strolled anywhere, the chances of being mauled or maimed rose drastically. Felix told her this once, and she never gave herself leave to stroll again.

This small act of defiance gave Jenna more pleasure than she thought it would. All her life she had looked up to her older brother: strong, handsome, powerful Felix. No one disagreed with him. He was the darling of Vale and when he went down with the flood the village reeled with his loss, and Jenna was never more depressed. Secretly, evilly, though, she was glad he was gone. Maybe then she would have a chance to grow and not be smothered by his love.

And look what good it did her.

Suddenly, Jenna didn't feel like strolling anymore. She felt ridiculous in her getup. She felt even more ridiculous when she realized that she was going to meet a perfect stranger who may or may not have made her something. For all she knew, he was some fat ugly old man who bought the dish on the journey from wherever he came from. Maybe he didn't even want to marry her. Maybe he just wanted to buy her house or appraise her artifacts. Maybe he was an assassin or a rapist or a salesman.

She really didn't want to find out, for fear of being proven an idiot.

Jenna pulled out the ties in her hair as she stood near the edge of the cliff, ready to put up her mane in its usual matronly bun. She smeared away the sticky makeup on her face and wiped her hands on her skirt, not caring if she left streaks on the fabric. Once her hair was up and her makeup was gone she felt safer, more secure. Needless to say, she felt worse, but at least she wasn't vulnerable anymore. That's what it really came down to.

"What a shame," someone said from behind her. "Your hair was always beautiful in my opinion."

"I don't care what you think," Jenna snapped. She didn't care who it was, either. It would have been the King of Lemuria or a drunk homeless man—it didn't matter. As long as she didn't turn around to look them in the eye, she was safe.

"I know. You never did, really. You think of me as dirt—you always have—and yet I've always loved you. In my eyes, my dear, you could do no wrong."

Jenna froze just as she opened her mouth to tell the person to go away. That endearment—the familiarity of it chilled her, as did the fear and the openness and the isolation. If he tried anything, she would be helpless. Her blood turned cold and sluggish and she almost forced herself to turn around, to face the manifestation of her pervading fear.

"No, Jenna, you need not confront me if you are not ready. But this in itself is a silly thought, don't you think? You thought yourself ready years ago, if I am correct. You believed you readied yourself to face the final test, but instead you collapsed into your own self-pity and sadness after it began. You blamed the death of your parents on your friends and ran away. Come now, Jenna. What happened to you?"

She had asked herself this question only the night before, but it was different coming from someone else. No, scratch that—it was different coming from him. He was always so separate and detached from everything, and yet it never occurred to her that that way he could see everything going on in their little group. He noted the transformation in her, in them all, but said nothing. In her eyes, he was her equal and maybe even her inferior.

"You stand there and berate me for my stupidity, but what of your own? You had so many chances to tell me, to enlighten me, and yet you didn't. Instead you stood by and watched as I killed my parents, and now you laugh at me for doing what I did? If anyone is the fool, Alex, it's you! You say you love me, but you… you… you did nothing to protect me. You were constantly watching me hurt myself and my friends and you have the gall to say you love me? You know nothing about me!"

"I couldn't agree more," Alex said, still infuriatingly complacent. "That is why I am here now."

"What the hell do you even mean?" Jenna said angrily. "I don't want your help. I don't need you help."

"On the contrary, my dear," he replied, "you desperately need someone's help, and it's just so lucky I happened along."

"You should be dead."

"I am very much alive."

"You fell off a cliff."

"No, I was pushed. But we'll get to that later. In the meantime you and I are going to attend a reunion."

Jenna frowned, not quite processing what he just said. "What do you mean?" she asked slowly. "What reunion?"

"I received word of a reunion that your adorable brother is hosting," he said sarcastically. "I have plans to attend, and you are going to come with me."

"Why should I go with you?" Jenna almost laughed at the ridiculousness of his "offer." He was such an ass to her and her friends, and now she was suddenly enveloped in his plans and had no say in her choices? "You wanted to take over the world, Alex, so why the hell should I go anywhere with you? Actually, don't even answer that question. I'm saying no."

"Jenna, this is a once-in-a-lifetime offer. You have a chance at redemption, salvation, absolution, whatever you want to call it. It pains me to see you like this, and I want to help you."

"Alex, I don't give a damn. I don't want your form of salvation."

He began to sound exasperated, but Jenna still didn't turn around to face him. "You… you don't know what it's like."

"Excuse me?"

"You look so miserable," he said, struggling to get the words out. "It's very hard to see you like this, Jenna, so tired and sad. You used to be so happy and exuberant, and that attracted me to you. Your unfailing ability to see the good in people. I knew you never liked me, but it didn't stop me from wondering—if you and I had the chance, would you be able to see good in me? To see light where I can see only… emptiness?"

"I don't know what ever possessed you to see me in that way," she said shakily, his words stirring something deep inside her heart. "Sometimes it felt like I only ever saw destruction and hate, even inside myself and Felix and Isaac and the rest of them, and in the people we saw in the places we traveled. It felt like I could never escape it, almost as if it didn't matter where I went or who I met—I could never really outrun the evil that lives inside everyone."

She turned, forgetting her fury and finally gathering the courage to look him in the eye. "And yet when I saw you, I only saw how detached and separate you were. You were like an angel," she said, a ghost of a smile on her face. "I hoped to be like you."

Jenna looked up at Alex and saw him, really saw him for the first time in her life. He wasn't an angel anymore, or if he was, it was an angel of destruction. He had been so ready to take over the world and rule with an iron fist, and Jenna would never be able to forgive him for that, even with the evil and ignorance running rampant. He wasn't so disconnected anymore, either. He certainly wasn't dead. He had changed—for the better, she did not know.

He stood between two trees, his face compassionate and yet still guarded, like he knew she was going to shut herself in again. It was strange to see him with emotion in his face and to hear his feelings in his voice. Jenna realized that he was more like her now—albeit the old Jenna, not this new pathetic one.

Again she longed to be more like him. Somewhere deep inside she admitted to herself that she would always hope to be like him.

"I'll go with you to the reunion," Jenna said.

Alex smiled. "I'm glad."

Jenna had never seen Alex smile before. It was definitely a disarming experience.

It was also proof that people really can change.

He reached out to her with his gloved hand and said, "Friends?"

Jenna looked at his hand momentarily before saying, "It's not possible. There's too much history. Too much bad history."

Alex shook his head. "I know I haven't said it outright, my dear, but I have forgiven you. I said you could do no wrong in my eyes and I meant it. I always will. I don't care what you look like or feel like or are like—you are Jenna and always will be, and that's enough for me."

His hand was still outstretched.

"I don't deserve this," she said thickly, feeling her pathetic tears bubbling up. "After my cowardice, I don't deserve a second chance."

"I don't deserve you," he said simply. Before she could shake his hand, though, he was gone.

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I am extremely sorry it took me the entire summer (and then some) to get this out, so no excuses. I just hope this chapter turned out okay for you guys. :)

I know, I know, I'm taking the AU-ness a bit too far… Alex should not smile in any universe. It's part of his overall sexiness. But I'm trying to illustrate the point that he has changed, which I'll elucidate on later… eventually… maybe.

Please review!

Helena Heartbeat, over and out!