A/N: So at 10 p.m. my time, I realized that today was Monday, of all the absurd things in the world... It hadn't even occurred to me as I went to my classes today. Seriously, work takes away my weekends and messes up my weekdays in the process. While it's past Midnight elsewhere, it's still Monday here, so I guess I can say I got it posted, yet again, on Monday. Regardless, I'm sorry for the wait. Just as a side note, I'm not sure if I'll have the chance to update next Monday or not. I'm working four to midnight both Monday and Tuesday next week, so, if fatigue really crashes down on me, the next chapter might not be posted till Wednesday, but we'll just have to wait and see.

Thanks to all of those who continue to read this story and to those of you who take time out of your schedule to review. It always means a lot.

Enjoy,

Orangepotato

Chapter Twenty Five

Lloyd was numb.

He couldn't even feel the rain hitting his skin; he couldn't feel the claws tearing into his heart or the way his breath hitched painfully in his throat…

Stepping blinding through the pounding rain, his feet slugged through the muddy earth. Boot print after boot print, his trail vanishing as the water changed the landscape with its pressure. He didn't mind it though. Even though he was numb, he almost relished in the feeling of slowly being hammered into ground. Perhaps he'd disappear, perhaps everything would disappear.

Walking through Iselia, he wasn't sure when he decided he wanted a drink. His feet carried him to the grocery store, the small wooden building standing bravely in the face of the storm.

Opening the door to the shop with a ping, he let his dull russet eyes travel the shelves. The area was cold, the smell of mold filling his senses. Dust sat on several of the higher shelves, moats of the gray fluff drifting through the air as he stepped forward.

Quickly, he spotted the liquor. Some lighter beers were on the nearest shelves, bottled in amber colored bottles. There were several brands, a few high priced potions from Palmacosta, but nothing initially interesting.

Glancing at the lower shelves though, he spotted the large bottles of hard alcohol. The clear liquid inside the glass bottle practically called for him and without hesitation he scooped it up and went to check out.

He didn't bother looking at the older man at the cash register. Digging through his pockets, he pulled out a few gold coins and placed them on the wooden desk in front of him.

"It's you again!" The elder said, making the teen look up. If he had any motivation, he would have raised an eyebrow. Instead, he stared blankly at the man. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, then began stuttering out an apology, "I'm so sorry, I just thought- I mean, you look like…"

"It's fine," the brunette spoke. His own voice spooked him. He sounded hollow. I feel hollow. And it was almost terrifying how insipid it sounded. He could tell that the store owner was also slightly taken aback.

"Yes, um…" he gave the teen a look, like he wanted to ask a question but couldn't decide if he should. Lloyd just ignored it, instead letting his gaze travel down to the bottle of alcohol that he was waiting to buy. The man perked up instantly, giving another apology and ringing it up. He grabbed the gold coins and slid them into a slot in his machine, "It's just that you look so much like this other man I had in the store recently. He was a bit taller than you but by Martel, you look just like him."

The brunette only shrugged, uninterested.

"You know," the man continued, "The only reason I remember him is because he left a lot of extra change and told me to keep it." The man got quiet for a moment, as if trying to decide why a person would do that in the first place, "Anyways, I'm sorry…"

Lloyd nodded, grabbing the clear liquid and leaving quietly.

He heard the man speaking quietly about the teen's appearance again, but he ignored it. With a few solid steps, he was back outside in the pouring rain.

Finding a small ally, he sat on some wooden crates, the wood groaning under his weight. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he opened the bottle and quickly chugged a good portion of the liquid.

It burned his throat as it descended into his stomach, the warm feeling settling there and spreading to his other limbs. With another swing, he felt the acid of the alcohol burning at his skin and slowly, entering his mind.

Coating his senses, he downed the bottle quickly, feeling a buzz at his fingertips by the time he finished it.

Drinking didn't make the matter better though.

He leaned his head against the wall behind him, throwing the bottle against the opposite wall with a crash. It didn't make what he'd done any easier, it didn't make what he feel any better.

"If you love her, let her go," Lloyd spoke Yuan's words with disgust. What did the man know of love, anyways? How could he possibly understand how difficult it was to let go to the very thing that made life wonderful?

Lloyd hadn't even realized, till right now, how void everything seemed now. The rain was colder, the storm was stronger, life was a hell of a lot harder; he'd cut himself off from Colette only half an hour ago and he felt like the world was ending.

He could almost hear Yuan speaking, You'll get over it.

Maybe the teen was being overdramatic, but for once in his life things had felt right and now? Now they were scrambled again, the world around him more confusing than it had been before.

Laughing at himself, he left the alley, wandering back into the onslaught of rain. It pattered against his skin, the drum filling his mind as he absently strolled through the town. The alcohol was slowly taking over his body, the bubbling elixir flooding his brain.

His eyes spotted the local bar, a rundown shack that rested between a wooden church and a mortuary. Stumbling over, he swung the door open. The place was practically empty, a few patrons sitting at the bar, backs to him.

The bartender noticed him immediately, giving him a quick second glance, probably because the man had noticed the bruises that littered the teen's face. However, the rail thin barkeep, red hair slicked back from his pale face and golden brown eyes greeted him friendly enough.

"What can I get for you?"

"The hardest thing you've got," Lloyd stated, almost finding it funny. Settling himself at the bar a couple chairs away from the closest person, he received his drink.

The frothy amber liquid smelled foul, making the brunette wrinkle his nose. If he was in his sane state of mind, he probably wouldn't have touched it. However, the buzz he was feeling made him chug the thing, the sour liquid spilling through his throat and burning his stomach.

"Holy crap," the bartender spoke, "Did you have a hard day or something?"

Slamming the glass cup on the bar, Lloyd stated, "You don't even know the half of it. Can I get another one?"

In a flash, another cup of hard liquor was created and set before him. Consequences be damned, he drank the entire thing within a matter of minutes.

Lloyd, closing his eyes as he felt the alcohol swirl in his mind, spoke quietly, "Keep them coming." He pulled a few golden coins out, tossing them on the bar. The bartender stared at the money, wide eyed.

"Sir, that's a lot-"

"Consider it a tip," he stated, sliding the empty glass to the copper haired man.

A mix of concern and confusion rested on his face for a brief second, as if he was considering something, and then snatched the glass up, turning to refill it.

As an hour passed, the teen allowed himself to drift into a drunken oblivion.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"I have a proposition for you," the chubby man stated, drumming his thick fingers together. He was seated in a plush chair behind a large maple colored desk. Papers were stacked on either corner, the center cleared away so it almost seemed like towers were built around him.

An oversized crown rested on his head, but for some reason, it seemed to match the proportion of his body.

If Regal didn't know any better, he'd think the crown was simply a second head; a disgusting growth for a disgusting man.

The man continued, "We'll have Vharley arrested and tried in court for his crimes as well as give him your sentence as long as you fulfill a few things for me."

It was quiet in the room; the elegance of the area almost absorbing the excess noises that came from being connected with the church. Not even the mass that was going on right now, a high priest in the chubby man's stead, could penetrate the walls.

Not saying anything, Regal stared the man down. He was well aware what was on the table. He'd been the one to come forth and offered his services in exchange for Vharley's arrest. It'd been months ago, his words unheard until now. He didn't like admitting it, but he'd almost given up on getting justice when he'd been approached.

"You don't waste words, do you?" The man asked, "Well, the point of the matter is this. There's an assassin that needs to be taken care of. If you can kill her-"

"Her?" Regal spoke for the first time. The assassin was a woman? He had nothing against women but the idea of one murdering people for money seemed absurd.

"Yes, a member of the hidden village of Mizuho. She was sent on an assignment to assassinate someone and since we know about it, we'd like to have her attempts thwarted."

"You wish to murder her?"

"Yes. It's the easiest way to dispose of someone."

"Isn't that an odd thing for the pope of the Church of Martel to be requesting?" The prisoner kept his tone sincere. It was the truth, he was curious as to the pope's intentions.

The man chucked thickly, "There's a necessity for her death."

It was hardly a reason to destroy an innocent life, no matter how tainted by blood that life was, but he didn't argue. Instead, he inquired, "What is that necessity?"

"The circumstances of this case are… complex. I need your compliance before I can tell you. As you can understand, this woman is an assassin, not some mere murderer. The person she's after is highly important."

Regal pondered it for a moment. No matter how grievous the idea of killing another life, the man knew his options were limited. Could he really sacrifice this woman's life to ensure the sentencing of Vharley? That man had stolen so much, had surely ruined more lives than Regal knew about, but could the prisoner justify the assassin's death because of that?

Vharley…

He'd have too. The assassin, at the very least, was well aware that her mission could result with her death. The people Vharley had manipulated, the lives he'd destroyed, hadn't expected death. They'd been sold off and forced into the destinies others decided for them.

Inhaling deeply, Regal answered solemnly, "You have my compliance."

The plump man smiled, beady eyes narrowing, "Excellent."

"But I want it in writing."

The pope sputtered a bit on his next statement, obviously not expecting that, "Why would you ask for such a ridiculous thing?"

Regal knew, from experience, that one should never trust another person in the world of business. He also wasn't foolish enough to believe that the higher ups in the Church of Martel weren't corrupt. They were tightly involved in the political affairs of Tethe'alla, which made the prisoner even more wary of the man. Regal didn't trust politicians.

"I am a business man," he stated simply.

Smiling, the pope nodded a bit, "I suppose you were, at one point, the president of a rather large company." He chuckled a bit then leaned back, as if considering it. Then he placed his elbows on the desk, fingers creating a tent over the wood. "Alright, I'll draw up a formal agreement. Once you sign, I'll explain the entire situation."

Even though Regal was still uncomfortable with the situation, he knew he didn't have much of a choice. At the very least, by sacrificing this woman's life, he'd be saving more.

Alicia…

He'd make sure that no one else ended up as she had.

Mentally shaking the thought away, he focused on the chubby man in front of him. He was scribbling on a piece of paper, hunched over his desk.

Regal closed his eyes and sighed.

The woman would just become another soul that rested heavily on his heart… another soul he'd carry on his shoulders for the rest of his life.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Hours had passed, the rain pounding harder and harder on the roof. It filled the almost empty bar, everyone except Lloyd and the bartender having gone when the storm had started getting worse.

The entire world swirled, the air way too warm for the icy rain that fell. However, Lloyd wasn't concerned about that; he was concerned about the moat of dust that lazily floated down from the ceiling. It span in a few small, slow circles, finally settling in a clump of gray on the bar.

God, how did it do it? Float through the air? It didn't have wings, or-

"Hey…" he called to the copper headed barkeep, "Hey."

"What is it?" The man asked.

His name was Jeremy or something. At least, that's what his nametag said. The teen settled his russet eyes on the white clip that was attached to the man's shirt.

V-I-N-C-E

Yup. Jeremy.

"How do you suppose," Lloyd slurred, "the dust did that?"

"Did what?"

"You know," the teen struggled to find the word. Racking his brain, he felt like he was searching through sludge, hands feeling blindly around in a vain attempt to locate something. After a second of serious thought, he tossed a hand up, gently lowering it as if it were falling.

Jeremy didn't seem to understand.

"Forget it," Lloyd commented, downing the rest of the alcohol in his hand. "Another, please."

"You don't really seem like you need another one," the man gave a small smile, grabbing the cup and cleaning it.

The brunette watched in dismay, "What?"

"It's after hours, anyways. You should probably head home."

"But I thought what we had was special."

Jeremy gave a nod, "It was, but you need to get home. The storm's getting worse and I have to get home too." He pointed a thumb out the window, the thick raindrops hitting the glass with a terrible force.

"Oh," the teen commented. When had it started raining so hard? He glared at the window as if it had the answers. When it didn't answer him, he gave a huff and turned towards the bartender, who was busy cleaning the rest of the place up.

The dust moat was gone.

"Where did it go?" He began looking around, the earth shifting as he twisted his head. God, he'd heard of earthquakes but this was ridiculous.

The bell chimed behind him, but Lloyd was too busy looking for the missing clump of dust. A voice he vaguely recognized called out, "Vince, you ever coming home?"

Russet eyes casually, or as casually as Lloyd could muster at the moment, shifted to the person who'd come through the door. It was the elder from the shop, his white hair stuck to his face.

The elder's eyes widened in recognition, but again he seemed to mistake the brunette, "It's you!" Then, after a moment, he shook his head, "No, no, wait, you're the other one." He chuckled to himself, "Sorry for that."

Jeremy spoke up, "You know him, pop?"

"He bought some alcohol from the shop," he commented, walking forward.

Lloyd listened as the two spoke, their voices tinny as if they were speaking into cans. The rain was obnoxiously loud as well, hammering away at the two men's conversation so that the teen couldn't make it out. He stared harder, trying to hear the words.

It wasn't helping.

God, why wasn't looking at it making his hearing better?

Flopping himself on the bar, he pressed his cheek to the cool wood.

Wow, it was so cold, so smooth. He ran a hand over the wood, the surface gracing his fingertips. It felt amazing, his brain unable to come up with words to describe it. Instead, he stroked the wood, letting the feeling roll through his nerves.

Somewhere in the fog of his mind, he heard Jeremy ask, "Is he okay?"

The elder responded, "Well, he was distant when he was at the store. I don't know what's wrong though, he didn't open up."

"Yeah, he didn't tell me either. He's just gotten more and more… like that."

Lloyd had the vague feeling he was being stared at, so he turned his gaze to the two men, the men jiggling into his view. Were they dancing? Why were they moving so much?

He watched the elder speak, his mouth moving, words following delayed, "He just looks so much like that customer I told you about…"

"That other red headed guy?" Jeremy's voice sounded slow, warped, to the teen's ears. He blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his head.

"Yeah. It's not him though," the older one stated.

Red head?

The brunette's disjointed thoughts managed to bring back what the shop owner had said earlier about the man who the teen resembled.

Taller… and he had red hair.

"What color red?" The teen's words slurred as he spoke, but both men heard him.

The elder answered, "I'd say auburn."

"Why?" Jeremy questioned, concern covering his face. The brunette had no idea why the barkeep was worried, but he ignored it. Instead, he struggled to collect his thoughts.

"What eyes color?" He shook his head. No, that's not right. Waving a hand around, as if trying to push his thoughts together correctly, he spoke again,"Eyes. What color?"

The older man seemed to think about it, then turned to the copper headed man, "What did I say? It was a strange color. Something," he snapped his fingers, trying to think of the color.

"You said it was wine colored or something," the bartender answered, "reddish brown?"

"That was it," the elder said, "Why, though?"

Brain buzzing, a toxic hum over his coherent thoughts, Lloyd slowly cleared his mind. He still felt the alcohol brushing his skin, beckoning him back to the bliss it created; however, he found the allure stifled as the elder spoke again, directing his statement to the bartender.

"He bought travelling supplies. My guess is that he headed into the Iselia woods, which is why I was so shocked when I saw this young man."

"Iselia… woods?" The teen managed, standing. The world turned and the brunette stabilized himself on the bar. Jeremy took a step forward, ready to help, but Lloyd waved him off. "I'm fine."

"Well, yes," the shop owner said.

Lloyd started moving away from the bar, heading towards the door.

It was a nagging feeling, the alcohol being masked underneath the question that had bubbled to the surface. A man that looks like me? It couldn't be… Kratos? Something between icy terror and curiosity brushed at his nerves and he couldn't ignore it.

"Hey!" Jeremy shouted, "You're not thinking of going out there, are you? You'll die!"

The teen laughed, it coming out more bitter than humorous, "I'll be fine." He reached out to grab the door handle, missing by a mile and almost falling to the floor. He caught his footing though, groping the wood in front of him till his fingers touched the black metal handle. Yanking it open, the protests of the individuals in the bar were carried away with the rush of wind and rain.

His feet carried him before he could change his mind.

Running out of the bar, the water slammed his pale skin as he darted forward, heading for the entrance of the village and subsequently, the entrance of the forest. Even as the earth shifted, the water heating his skin instead of cooling it, his feet seemed to know where he was going.

Half an hour passed, the teen's muscles protesting slightly as he dashed through the trees. The remaining leaves had been ripped away, littering the muddy earth. The bare bones reached into the black sky, providing little protection from the water that emptied from the clouds.

However, the forest was silent aside from the rain. The animals had retreated, leaving the paths void of life.

Heart hammering, the teen picked up his pace, boots splashing through the muddy trail.

He could feel it. This place. He'd been to this forest before. No memories came across his mind, but he knew deep in his soul, the resonating silence accompanied by the hum of rain… he'd heard it before. The unique melody floated through his ears as he ran, the noise getting louder and louder.

Then, it stopped.

The noise, almost deafening, dropped from his ears even though the rain still fell, the forest quiet.

Lloyd stopped immediately; looking around, heart making a dent in his ribcage. He was shaking, he realized, but his body was warm. It sparked with energy, determination and fear, but he was trembling.

Calm down…

It wasn't working. Nothing he told himself could stop the tremors and slowly, he realized why.

He'd been here before; this exact spot.

Russet eyes widened as he looked around the clearing he was standing it. A sheer cliff side rose in front of him, the craggily edge disappearing in the darkness that consumed the sky. Trees, bare and daunting, surrounded him on the edges of the mud clearing he stood in.

"I've been here," he noticed he was whispering.

No, he'd never been here. Hell, he'd never been in the woods. All his life he'd been in Derris-Kharlan. The closest he'd ever gotten to the Iselia forest was when he was in Iselia, sneaking around the edge of the sleepy town to see Colette, so why?

His knees buckled and he dropped to the ground with a splash. He didn't notice though, being more focused on how his entire body ached with some sorrowful familiarity. Pain, he realized. He was feeling pain.

There were no injuries, but his heart throbbed. Wrapping his arms tightly around his chest, he began to sob. Tears stung his eyes, his throat, spilling out over his raw skin, slicing through the heat his body had previously felt. Now, all he felt was cold. He felt alone.

The feeling plagued him, a mournful emotion that penetrated the haze of alcohol he'd been besieged by and weaseled its way into his brain.

Suddenly, he felt a stabbing pain through his chest, the grief filling the gash and being sealed over with rain. He was shaking and terrified. He couldn't find something… was he looking for something?

Terror, absolute terror and then a twisted feeling of relief. No, it was more like a realization.

Cold, alone, scared… Lloyd realized he was dying.

No.

He wasn't dying, at least, not in reality.

He was still alive, heart still beating in his chest… it wasn't he who had died, it was…

"Everything is going to be alright."

The voice instantly dulled the sorrow and the brunette glanced up to where the voice had come from. There, in the rain, stood Kratos.

His hair hung limply, commoner's clothes sticking to his lean body as he stared at the teen, eyes sharp but pooled with sympathy.

No, it was empathy.

Kratos was feeling what Lloyd was feeling.

The auburn's words drifted through the air, striking a familiar bell in the teen's head, yet he couldn't place it.

Slowly, Lloyd stood, still gripping his arms tightly. While everything had lessened, the shaking had remained.

Kratos spoke, "You remember this place, don't you."

The brunette wanted to deny it, but his voice caught in his throat. Hell, he didn't even trust his voice.

Whether the auburn had expected a reply or not, he moved on, "This is where Anna died."

The sorrow returned. The painful lonely feeling of someone who was dying, of someone who'd died…

In a flash, memories returned. The tumble down the cliff side, the terror that had gripped him, tiny hands reaching out to an unmoving person… and he was saying something?

Mommy?

Mommy.

She didn't move and he'd gotten scared. Horrible howls and growls had echoed around him.

Too loud. It was too loud.

He'd hidden, greenery shuffling around him as tears rolled down his cheeks. He didn't leave though, he was waiting for something. No, someone.

Kratos' voice, a distant memory, slid into the thoughts.

"Everything's going to be alright."

The rain hammered into the clearing, bringing the teen back to the present. He trembled, tears rolling down his face and dripping off his chin. He remembered. God, he remembered.

"Lloyd," Kratos said, "This is where your mother died."

It was true. Everything Kratos had said was true.

"Dad," he muttered, his words getting lost in the whirl of rain. Kratos was his father. Then who was Yggdrasill-

Warm arms wrapped around him, tugging him into a fierce hug.

Lloyd realized Kratos was hugging him, arms tight around him. The auburn's breath was hitching, voice strained and shaking as he spoke, "Lloyd, you-"

The teen wrapped his arms around Kratos-his father- and managed between hiccups, "I remember, dad… I remember."

All the acknowledgement did was made him cry harder. He tucked his head into the crook of Kratos' shoulder, feeling safe, God, feeling loved in his father's embrace.