It appears that every sorceress who has established her powers attempts, whether consciously or subconsciously, to attract and bond to her a knight. I have studied this phenomenon, and observed that this bond, which the layperson calls a "spell," possesses such a mesmeric influence over the subject knight's neural pathways that the subject cannot easily emancipate themselves except by a powerful force of will, or a superseding, more potent, attraction or influence over the subject's psyche. The sorceress' "spell" over the subject knight affects the subject's brainwaves in a manner that cannot be easily detected without the appropriate tools, as the subject continues to function and behave in a mostly normal fashion, and does not appear to be otherwise under a spell; but persons who has studied and are well-versed in the matter may detect several warning signs, including sudden shifts in mood, an ongoing obsession with the spellcaster, and illogical and unexplained actions over which the subject does not seem to possess full control.

Dr. Odine, The Sorceress

1: The first meeting - infirmary

Him

The gauzy wings of the curtain moved slowly before the light breeze, fanning him with a steady stream of air, cooling the burn that threaded his skin, the thin trail like a fingerprint of fire that traced his recently-inflicted injury. The doctor has visited him earlier, and checked on him briefly; but, finding his condition satisfactory, has left the room to attend to her other patients. And now he lay prone on the narrow infirmary bed, one arm thrown over his face to shade his eyes from the bright light that poured through the window, trying to collect his senses and re-acclimating himself to his surroundings. The slash in his forehead still ached, and the drugs that had been administered to him in the subsequent treatment had thrown his consciousness into a hazy, almost dreamlike state. And this might be the reason why he was not quite sure that he had actually seen her.

She stood on the other side of the wide window, framed by sunlight, her slight, elegant form clad in white and blue and green, like a living image of Spring. She leaned slightly forwards, her pale face framed by wisps of short, light brown hair, her eyes very dark in the strong light, and smiled at him tentatively, her voice floating softly through the drifting sunshine. "So… we meet again."

"Who…?"

But when he had turned his head to take a better look, she was gone.

Her

For almost thirteen years, since she was ten years old, she has been ensconced in the ship of the white SeeDs; bound, like all the other orphans that had joined her in her captivity, to the waves of the sea, aimlessly, endlessly drifting; forever on one, continuous, ceaseless journey of escape. She had thought of him sometimes during those years, through the blue summer mornings and the white winter evenings; Raine's baby, Laguna's son, he had held a special place in her heart, and stood apart from all the other children who had been deposited at that orphanage. In his father's absence, they had both been transported there together shortly after his birth, and his mother's death. And he was so much like his mother in appearance, coloring, and temperament: introverted, curt, critical, and, although he would not admit it, deeply sensitive to hurts. She had tried her best to nurture him, she who was only five years old at the time, and had undergone her own trials as a test subject in the sterile labs of Esthar; her little brother, she called him, although they both knew that they were not related by blood. And she would tell him stories of his mother, who had adopted her after her parents has died to the guns of invading soldiers, and of their little native town of Winhill; and of his father, a handsome soldier who had chanced there after escaping from a failed reconnaissance mission, and to whose terrible wounds his mother had tended until he was fully healed. And he, that little boy, was always at her heels, always seeking her like a shadow; and his eyes, even if he had not, and could not, articulate his feelings, always told her that she was important to him. And she would embrace him fondly, and say that he was dear to her heart.

She could still recall the sadness of that day when she realized that she had to abandon him to a new fate, a new life, to an arduous mission and a burden that she wondered that mere children would have to carry; but the greatest pain had lay in the fact that she was not even given a chance to say goodbye, to explain to him that she was not leaving him on purpose; that she was in great danger, and had to flee. Cid and Edea were worried that such information would disturb the younger children, and increase the chance of discovery; so she left, wiping tears, and imploring Cid to explain things to him as gently as possible.

And so, for many years she had wandered, and wondered, and wished she could see him again, but never had the chance and was never given permission to do so. Cid would only tell her that he was doing well, exceptionally well, and that she should not disturb his peace and the rigorous training that he was enduring. And she, still a young girl, was compelled to obey and had left him alone.

But now she had grown, and found, for the first time, a will to resist. She had come to the Garden for just a short while, and had promised Cid to make herself scarce for her safety's sake; but when she heard that he had been wounded, she begged Cid to let her see him. And, seeing that her feelings had not altered, he yielded to her wish and complied, on the condition that she would not explain or identify herself.

"He won't recognize you," he warned.

"Yes, he wouldn't. It's been thirteen years, after all. I just want to see how he is, especially now, that I know that he's been wounded."

"Don't worry, my dear. He'll be fine. But he might… he might not even remember you."

"Well… he was barely six years old when I left."

But something about the way that he said it made her wonder.

She had just a glimpse of him. She had promised not to reveal herself, and she kept her promise. She spoke to him softly, through the barrier of glass that separated them. He was stretched on the bed, and she could not see his face clearly, but thought that she could detect the similarities between him and his father. He was dressed in dark clothes, and his hair was a medium shade of chestnut brown; darker than Raine's, but lighter than Laguna's. She could not see his eyes - his mother's eyes - but guessed that they would have retained their blue-gray color. From the little she could see of his profile she guessed that he had grown up very handsome. The sight made her feel a slight shock, that she only fully digested when she turned away and vanished silently into the shadows of the corridor. He was no longer the boy who had followed her, and looked at her with silent affection. He was a young man now, grown tall, battle-hardened… and a stranger.

But… she would be there for such a short time… and she wanted to see him again. So much time had passed, so much that she wanted to discuss with him, so much to explain. She would talk to Cid, she would not give up this time, she would plead her case and present her reasons. She wanted to see him again…

She had to see him again.

NOTES

Things to watch out for in this story:

Squall's name never getting mentioned in-chapter-text, and corresponding writing gymnastics.

Ellipses. Lots and lots of ellipses. One day I'll write them out. But that day isn't today.

Graduation

Him

This was it. The field mission that would decide, after those long, grueling years of training whether he would finally join the ranks of the mercenaries, and officially become a SeeD. He sat in the car that conveyed his squad to the pier, where they would embark on the boat that would transport them to their mission. His head was low in thought; but he was not thinking of the trial that loomed ahead, however important it might be.

He was, in fact, thinking of her. The girl in the infirmary, her pale form, green, blue and white, like a vision of spring.

Who was she…?

She reminded him, somehow, of a folk story that he read in an old picture book that he found in the recesses of the orphanage library. It was the story of the maiden spirit of Spring, who yielded to the affections of the lonely king of the dark underworld, after he gave her a flower as an offering of his love. He could have given her the riches of all the glittering treasures couched within the depths of the earth; but he offered her that single flower instead; something not his own, his homage to the beauty and life that she bestowed upon the world; its bloom transient, fleeting, but transcending the multitude of that dark king's own eternal, enduring, material riches. And he liked that end to the story.

The pages of that old picture book were dilapidated from overuse, and his five-years-old's fingers, not always completely clean or appropriately careful, flipped and passed over them many times for several months. It ended up falling apart, and matron had dumped it into the waste basket, ignoring his objections and explaining that she will try to find a new book for him. But this did not satisfy him. He went to find Ellone, to pour his grievance to her, the only one in his short life who truly listened to him, and truly seemed to understand him; and she, a ten-year-old wise beyond her years, gave him a consoling hug and said that the story had not been lost.

"How is it not lost?" he asked.

"It will always stay here," she smiled, pointing at his forehead. "And here." She pointed at his heart.

"I will always remember it?" he asked, understanding.

"That's right. With your head, and within your heart."

He could no longer recall the name of the girl who had consoled him, or her exact words. All that he knew was that she was the one at the orphanage who always gave him the comfort that he needed, and that, unlike the others at that place, her image always remained in his mind; it was only a faint outline, a shadow of an image; but it was still a bright even if distant glow, its warmth still shining through the years… even though he had been heartbroken by her seeming abandonment of him and, consequently, had sought to forget, feeling that now he had no one left to rely on anymore, except himself.

But he remembered the story. He had asked her to write it down, and he read it over many times until those pages, too, had been dissolved away on the mists of time… but the story remained. And he wondered why he liked that story so much; not realizing that it had come to seem, to him, like a mirror held up to his life.

And who was she…?

He was ignoring the talk of the others. Zell and Seifer were, not surprisingly, having another dispute. Seifer, with that habitually arrogant look in his eyes, had been sitting spread-legged on the bench opposite to him, leaning back and eying his two teammates with disdain; his vibrant coloring, red-blond hair, blue eyes, white coat, forming a vivid brightness that seemed to create a counterpoint to the darkness of the clothing and hair of the gunblade specialist sitting opposite. And, in many ways, those two gunblade specialists were indeed polar opposites; one brash, confident, quick-tempered, openly confrontational, and always accompanied by two constant friends; the other a brooding, silent loner, his shadowed hair and eyes and clothing creating an absence of light; slow to confront others and never saying much, and saying what he did to the point.

It was Seifer who had given him that injury, in a sparring match gone wrong. But, as he knew, that outcome had been the fault of both. He had been provoked by Seifer's unscrupulous tactics, and for once, at least in many years, had lost his cool. They were both injured, and were both marked with scars; a reminder, for the rest of their lives, of the consequences of letting their feelings overcome the practical demands of the moment. A lesson that Seifer still needed to learn, and that he… well… he had, outside of that singular match, learned that lesson almost too well.

Quistis was snapping at them. Seifer, as always, had successfully taunted Zell, and made him lose his cool. Zell, even moreso than Seifer, needed to learn that lesson about controlling his feelings… and, failing that, would undoubtedly learn it the hard way someday.

And then he recalled that Quistis had visited him in the infirmary just after the girl had spoken to him, just after she had vanished. Quistis, he reasoned, may have seen something…

He had hitherto been silent, but at that thought he felt compelled to speak, and lifted his head to address her. "Who was that girl, who was in the infirmary this morning?"

Quistis' attention was drawn to him at this inquiry. Her blue eyes regarded him questioningly, an eyebrow arched. "Was someone there?" she asked, carefully. "I didn't notice anybody. Why are you asking?"

"Nothing, no reason," he muttered.

Seifer snorted derisively. "So, you just began to notice that girls exist, eh? Welcome to puberty, mate."

It was such a childish taunt that he did not bother answering. His mind was on the girl.

Who was she?

And… why… why did she seem… in some dim, distant way… almost familiar?

…And why did he want to see her again?

Her

He was standing alone, leaning against the wall in his dark SeeD uniform, focused on sipping the drink in his hand, and not looking at anyone; and after a while she could tell that it was a self-imposed isolation aimed to distance and repel communication. It was a detachment so clearly defined that it seemed to evoke an almost tangible barrier; as clear as ice, but as inflexible as iron. And she watched as he rejected attempt after attempt by others to initiate contact. A brash, blond young man who strode up to him with gregarious energy and tried to cajole him into a conversation, to whose approach he responded by turning his head away and refusing to speak. A slim, sprightly girl with light brown hair, charmingly enthusiastic, who put some questions to him, but who seemed to fare no better. The manner of both was friendly and casual, and she guessed that they knew him well— teammates, maybe? But he reacted to them with the same pointed indifference.

"Cid," she said quietly. She was sitting at his side, stowed away in a shaded corner, making herself scarce. He was standing beside her, surveying the ballroom, where numerous couples were twirling in a dance to celebrate the graduation of the new SeeDs.

"Yes?"

"He— is he always like that?"

He followed the direction of her eyes. Then, looking back at her, he smiled with seeming resignation. "Yes. Always had been."

"He had always been withdrawn as a child, but… I did not think that it would be quite this striking. Has it grown worse over the years?"

"I'm afraid so." But Cid ended the conversation abruptly by turning away and waving to someone he knew, and enacting a discussion with that acquaintance. She felt as if he had sought to avoid her questions, sensing the troubling concern that she didn't quite voice. And she fell silent and examined him again; longing to speak to him, but not daring to disturb him on that night, so important to him, that marked a milestone of success in that difficult and strenuous career that he... chose?

Did he really choose it, in truth? Did any of them choose their fate?

She was recalled from her reverie when she noticed that he was approached once again; this time by a black-haired girl clad in a dress so white that it seemed to shine. From her seat in the corner, Ellone could not see the girl's features clearly; but her figure was trim, and Ellone could guess that she was very likely quite pretty. The girl was accosting him; she was speaking to him with friendly energy; and he was averting his face, refusing to acknowledge her efforts. Unlike the other two, this one, Ellone reasoned, was a stranger. Slowly, carefully, she rose from her seat and stole closer, taking care not to be seen. The music subsided for a few moments, and their one-sided conversation drifted to her ears through the hum of the crowd. The girl in white was coaxing him into dancing with her, and her thin, fluting voice floated across the bright space of the hall in clear, audible tones.

"So you only dance with someone you like?"

"Just because our eyes met, does not mean that I wished to speak to you…"

"All right, then… if you only dance with someone you like, then you are going to like ME. Look into my eyes. You are going to like me… you are going to like me…"

"She's very pretty, but… how annoying…"

Ellone was surprised. She had heard several murmured, inaudible remarks, in a young man's voice, that seemed to carry a silent observation on the solicitations of the girl in white; she heard them, but not with her ears— she has heard them quite clearly, and inside her mind. And they seemed to come from his direction. She had heard his thoughts.

Ellone always knew that part of her talent involved telepathy, and, to a lesser degree, of reading the mind of others. But she had never managed to sense people's thoughts with such clarity, and without evoking that talent consciously—"connecting," she called it. That talent had grown over the years, and was always best with people that she was closest to; but she always felt a little guilty, as she did now, for spying on others' thoughts in that manner, and tried her best to refrain from doing so. The temptation, however, was great; and one time, when she was fourteen, and had crushed badly on a white SeeD aged eighteen, she could not resist the urge to make use of her abilities, and evoked her talent in order to read his thoughts about her. It was a humbling lesson. She was shocked by his crass, shallow mind, and deeply ashamed by the way that he viewed her. She never repeated that experiment again.

Ellone had been distracted by the quick, spontaneous connection that had formed between them, that enabled her to hear him without consciously trying to listen; and she tried to disconnect the link. But then she was distracted again by something else. Something… odd. Something that crackled in the air like thin lightning, and tasted of metal. And it emanated from the girl in white, as she spoke to him.

"You are going to like me… you are going to like me…"

And Ellone found herself perspiring, her heart hammering, and suddenly felt greatly disturbed; because she recognized that energy, and had sensed it before, and not long ago. That same energy had effused from Edea on that morning when she had altered, her mind seemingly possessed by another, hostile being, and had left the white SeeD ship. And she always wondered, after she had been apprised of the full situation under which Edea had been acting subsequent to that incident. Was it the power of… a sorceress?

And this… what she felt from the girl in white… was it a spell? Yes…. the girl in white was trying to cast a spell. Not consciously, maybe; but trying to cast it nevertheless. Her demeanor, Ellone thought, was playful, and possessed nothing of the menace that she had sensed flowing from Edea. But, in Esthar, Ellone had heard of the concept of the magic-born; dormant in the girls who had it, but liable to activate at any moment, at any opportunity, at any time… the magic of the sorceress.

Was that girl, maybe, a born sorceress who was unconscious of her power? Not all born sorceresses, she knew, were conscious of their power. And it could flower without prompting, and exert itself without warning, especially on the moment when another sorceress transferred her power to another, sensing a suitable vessel, and thus worthy successor... only girls who were sorceress-born could inherit another sorceress' power; but all girls who were sorceress-born could, in time, become a sorceress. They were rare, very rare, only one or two at most born in each generation. But they existed.

And this girl… she was one of them?

She had been embroiled in her thoughts, and before she had time to digest everything the music struck up again, and the girl in white, seeming adamant to impose her wishes on her reluctant would-be partner, took his arm and pulled him after her to the dance floor. Ellone followed them with her eyes. Although she managed to get her way, the girl in white did not seem to achieve more success with obtaining his full acquiescence to their partnership; and he made several attempts to leave the dance, only to be pulled in again. His simmering irritation floated up to Ellone.

"What…

I don't…

No, just leave me alone…

This is ridiculous...

That's it. I'm leaving."

He was turning his back on his dance partner, as if seeking an escape; but at a lull in the music she looked into his face, and, after a moment, his resistance suddenly seemed to crumble. He followed the dance steps with her.

They vanished from Ellone's sight among the other couples. She sat frozen. It struck her that, at the moment when he ceased resisting to the girl in white, the connection between them abruptly snapped, and she could no longer hear his thoughts.

She crept back to her seat. Cid was already there, questing for her with some agitation. "Where did you go?" he inquired.

"Cid," she said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Who is that girl in white?"

"Who? Oh…!" as the couple came briefly into sight. "That is Rinoa. She came to see me, so I'm glad that you found her. I'll go talk to her when the dance is done. Please stay here, Ellone. And, I beg of you, don't leave this corner again. You are running the risk of letting him see you, and it won't be a good time to dig up old wounds. I am going to speak to her for a bit, and then I'll be back."

The dance ended. Ellone stayed in her seat; but she had made up her mind. She WILL see him; she WILL speak to him; and Cid isn't going to stop her this time; because he's not going to know.

Second Meeting: Training Center

Him

He was lying on the bed in his room, deliberating whether he should meet Quistis at the training center, as she had ordered him after the dance. It was a familiar debate; not the first one that he had with himself, and not the first instance in which he had to undergo that consideration.

When the dance had finished, and the girl in white had vanished, he left for the balcony to get some fresh air. He felt a little dazed, as if he were seeing things through a thin mist, and he could not quite recall how, or why, it had happened; and even though it had ended just a few moments before, his recall of it was muddled, dreamlike, as if it had happened without him being conscious of it happening. He did recall that he had tried to resist it, had tried to get away from it; but she had insisted, and, before he realized it, his will had broken before her persistence. He certainly knew the required moves — dancing was part of the training at Garden, in case the SeeD needed to mingle socially with a target – and, once it had taken a hold of him, he followed them mechanically, his body taking over; but he did not want to dance; not with her, not with anyone. He wanted, as always, to be left alone with his thoughts.

But he was away from it now, taking the air, watching the stars glimmering faintly in the blackness of the late spring evening, feeling as if he was rising from a waking dream, and wondering if he had been just imagining everything. It had been a long day, and he was very tired.

A rustle behind him. He did not turn. A tall young woman came to stand beside him, leaning against the balcony rails, and from the corner of his eye he sensed her examining his profile. He knew it to be Quistis; and although he did not wish to speak to her, her presence was familiar and, in a way, comfortable, which contrasted, in a strangely real fashion, to what has just happened at the dance.

But still… he didn't want to talk to her. So when she asked him, with a slightly aggrieved note in her voice, "So, you'll dance with someone you don't know, but won't even look at me?" he barely bothered to answer. His mind was elsewhere; he did not have time for this. He knew that he was treating her unfairly; but that consciousness, that knowledge, was not a new one. It had happened more than once in the past; it had happened that morning, during the fire cave test; and it will probably happen again, until he had repulsed her enough so that she gave up on trying. He wished that he knew how to handle it better; but he didn't.

Her last order, she had said, was to meet her at the training center; but he recognized the signs. She has been trying to initiate a flirtation with him for a while now, becoming more pointed with each instance. That fire cave test, for instance, in which he went to retrieve a guardian force. She tried to pass it off as putting him at ease; but it had been a pattern of behavior that had been growing too obvious for either of them to pretend otherwise.

It's not that he didn't find her attractive; she was, in fact, a rare combination of beauty and high intelligence, and he greatly respected her. But, since he had been fourteen and she fifteen—five years now— since, in fact, she had been inducted into the ranks of SeeD at that astonishingly young age— their relationship had been a professional one; and he, always a stickler to protocol, and shunning the slightest scent of potential trouble with authority, did not want to cross that boundary with her. Beforehand, she had been both a SeeD, and his instructor; now, she was a fellow SeeD. He found himself growing exasperated with her persistence before his pointed hints and rebuffs; and, at any rate, he was not, at the moment, in the mood to make her think that his intentions about their personal relationship had in any way altered.

But, he thought, now that he's become a SeeD, he would still have to work with her for a long time, possibly on multiple missions. Might as well go, have it all out, and make it all clear to her. He knew that it won't be a pleasant confrontation, and he normally recoiled from such confrontations, and had always done his best to avoid them; all that emotional drama was just too much bother; he didn't want to hear about other people's problems; he didn't want to get involved. He wanted to be left alone.

And it was a bad time, anyway… because of the girl that he had seen at the infirmary.

He couldn't stop thinking about that girl, and in a way that he had never done about any other girl… except one. But THAT girl was, by now, just a fragment of a memory.

It was hard for him to realize that he had only seen her that morning, because it was starting to feel as if it had been a long time, as if he had seen her a long time ago… and maybe that was the piece of the puzzle that had eluded him, and disturbed him so much. She felt… almost familiar.

And… he couldn't stop thinking about her. Her dark eyes, her smile, the slender figure surrounded by the halo of sunlight.

But what was it, exactly, that made him think of her?

It was, maybe, the melancholy smile that she had given him. It had struck him like a light blow, whose aftershocks he was only beginning to feel; growing stronger, deeper, wider, and making him feel a little breathless every time that the image recurred.

He… he didn't remember.

"Ellone! Ellone!"

She was standing near the edge of the cliff, watching the sea. When she heard his footsteps running towards her, she turned and smiled at him. Her short, light brown hair stirred in the winds as she leaned towards him.

"What is it? Don't you still have your lessons to finish?"

"I'm done with lessons. Elle…"

"Yes, what is it?"

"Nothing, I… I just wanted to watch the sunset too."

"Yes, let's watch it. It's so lovely. It reminds me of the sunset in Winhill."

But as they looked on quietly, she added, "But sometimes… it makes me feel lonely."

"Lonely?" he asked.

"Yes. I wish I could see Raine and Laguna again… but I know that I never could. And sometimes I wish… I wish that I could alter the past… so that you, and I, and Raine and Laguna, could all be one happy family."

He fixed his eyes on his shoes. "So you could really be my sister?"

She glanced at him, smiling. "Aren't I? Don't I call you little brother?"

"Yes, but you said that you're not really my sister, right?"

"No, but I love you like you were my brother. And you should start calling me sis again, like the others."

It had been something new; ever since he understood the implication of what being siblings meant, he did not want to call her his sister. And now he hung his head.

"I… I don't want to."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

She crouched at his side. "But that makes me sad. I don't want to lose you as a brother."

"All right, then," he mumbled. "I'll call you sis."

She gave him a hug and then, taking his hand in her own, they returned together to the orphanage.

He opened his eyes. What happened? He had, it seemed, drifted to sleep for a little while, and had a dream. And no wonder; it has been a long day. And now… this.

He turned in the bed wearily. The shadow of the dream bothered him; only dimly remembered, but it seemed important.

He should go to sleep. He shouldn't go. He…

He is no longer a child. In two months, at the end of the summer, he will turn nineteen. If he was no longer a boy, he should handle these challenges in the appropriate way, as an adult would, and get this over with, once and for all.

He rose from the bed, changed outfits, and headed in the direction of the training center.

Her

She had followed them into that large, forested area. It was an incongruent place in the middle of a military school, and the plaque said, quite clearly, "Training Center."

So that was where the cadets did their training in off-hours? During evening, maybe, when it was too dangerous outside?

The dance had finished. After the girl in white left him, he had vanished into the balcony. Ellone noticed a tall, elegant young woman in a salmon-pink dress, her blond hair pinned up, who followed him outside. She could see their silhouettes through the glass door. They seemed to have a short conversation, and the young woman left; and then he, too, left the dance.

So she followed him quietly. He went to the dormitories; and when he re-emerged he had changed from the Seed uniform into his usual getup; white shirt, black pants, and a short jacket.

She recognized it as the same jacket that he wore that morning. Why was he always wearing that jacket? She did not like that jacket. And then she caught herself thinking this, and smiled at her preoccupation, in that instance, with such a trivial matter.

Then he went to the training center, where the blond young woman in the salmon-pink dress was apparently waiting for him. They conversed briefly, and went inside. She followed, trying to make herself scarce in the dense green vegetation that clustered thickly throughout the area. The place was eerily quiet at that hour, although she thought that she could hear the occasional rustling through the leaves. It made her skin tingle unpleasantly, and she found herself walking closer to the two SeeDs than she knew that she ought, worried about what she might encounter, or what was hidden within that impenetrable thicket.

The tall young woman seemed to know a shortcut, and she threaded her way through the jungle quite easily until they both reached an opening. They entered it. Ellone, concealed behind a short tree with broad leaves, peered out carefully and thought that she could hear a murmur of voices emanating from that area. There were other people in there, she guessed; she has reached an end, and should not try to follow them any further, if she did not want to be discovered. So she waited, feeling a little dispirited at the thought that she had to follow him in such a fashion, unseen and in secret, a ghostly thing from his past; one, maybe, that he did not even wish to confront.

She felt tired, and leaned against the creeper-covered wall, attempting to rest, and trusting the surrounding vegetation to conceal her from people entering and exiting the area. As she sat, a snatch of conversation floated up to her. It was a murmur at first, but grew stronger.

"She should have known better than to try confiding in me. What does she expect me to say?"

It was his voice, spontaneously entering her mind again. He was commenting, inside his mind, on… a conversation that he was having with the young woman?

"No, I don't want to talk to you about your problems."

"No. I don't want to share my feelings with you. I did this with her, when I was a child, and she left me. I'm doing all right on my own now."

"You should really look for someone who wants you to rely on him. I do not."

The tone was harsh, and the words bitter. Ellone leaned against the wall, her head low. His words echoed in her mind, and—

"No. I don't want to share my feelings with anyone. I did this with her, when I was a child, and she left me."

Did he mean…. herself? Yes. Undoubtedly he had meant her, when he spoke of someone who had left him when he was a child.

He had felt… abandoned.

"I…. I couldn't help it," she whispered, even though she knew that he couldn't hear her. "I'm sorry."

Now she began to understand his self-imposed isolation. He did not want to carry others' burden, mistrusting them to help him with his own, and afraid of becoming dependent on people who may, at any time, vanish from his life.

And it had made him so… cold. She inwardly pitied his conversation partner, who was probably trying to unburden herself, and found an icy barrier and an unwilling ear. She knew that he had been more sensitive to hurts than he had cared to admit as a child, and guessed that he had remained that way. But… it did not, she thought, justify his behavior. It was not an excuse.

And she wondered whether she could still do something for him that would make him understand this. But, she thought, was she even wanted in his life anymore? Don't reopen old wounds, Cid had said; and now she understood his meaning. Cid must have witnessed him retracting into his shell, and piling on that barrier, in the aftermath of her unexplained disappearance. Maybe, then, it would be for the best that she stay away from him; maybe she should obey Cid's wishes…. maybe he'd been right. There may be a time to see him again… someday. But… maybe not now.

She stood up, turned, and began to walk down the return path. She thought that she knew the way. She had a very good memory. And, sure enough, she was beginning to recognize the marks for the exit, when—

Something stomped out from the thicket. Something large, and slavering, and nasty, its mouth full of teeth. Something that growled at her, and advanced on her with a menacing stride.

She was no fighter. She didn't know what to do, and, in her panic, she froze. When she was a small child in Winhill, monsters had infested the town, and she was not allowed to leave her house without an escort. She clearly recalled that one bright summer morning when she stole out to visit Laguna, who had lived next door to Raine's pub at the time; and he, contrary to his usual easygoing nature, had been angry with her; stressing the risks, and fearing that she would be caught and killed by one of these beasts. He had loved her so much, like an adopted niece, and through his affection for the small child that she was, Raine had grown to see the goodness of his heart, and had fallen in love with him.

She didn't know what to do. She uttered a panicked cry; feeling helpless, and lost, and alone. The monster advanced on her, its sharp fangs dribbling. Any moment, she knew, it would leap, its teeth would sink in her neck, and that would be her end.

Then a frozen wind struck the monster. Ellone raised her eyes, shocked. An ethereally beautiful woman, her skin blue, her flowing, crystalline hair shining, was flinging an ice spell at the monster; the crystals quickly consolidated into a block of ice that trapped the beast within it, freezing it in its tracks. The ice spirit vanished, but Ellone found herself breathing quickly, trying to still the beat of panic that had invaded her. She now remembered that SeeDs in this Garden used guardian forces, unearthly spirits that protected and empowered them, turning them from ordinary combatants into super-powered soldiers. So that means that she had been rescued by—

"We got it, Quistis," said a young man's voice; and then he rounded the corner, the drawn gunblade gripped tightly in his hands. The monster had already shaken off the ice wall, which broke into pieces and fell in a shining shower around it; but a blow from the gunblade, in the hands of its handler, sliced deeply through the monster's throat, and it collapsed, mortally injured, its blood dripping on the dark earth.

Quistis…? He had called the tall young woman Quistis…

Ellone, trembling, watched them. Yes, it was them— they had, apparently, been walking not far behind her, and heard her cry of distress. She was lucky, then; lucky that they left that area so quickly after herself, and were able to come to her assistance. And now they were eying her with frank astonishment. The shock of seeing him again so suddenly was now superseded, however, by her surprise at the name that he had uttered, by which he addressed that young woman… Quistis.

"Quisty?" she whispered.

She could now see the young woman's face clearly; and she thought that, maybe, if she had seen it before, she would have recognized her. Quistis, another orphan in Edea's orphanage, had been both a beautiful and an intellectually brilliant child, who was mature for her years; and she was now a lovely young woman, with sky-blue eyes, butter-blond hair, and a trim, elegant figure. She, like him, had grown so much—

So was the entire orphanage, then, brought to this place and trained to be SeeDs…?

And then she wondered, who else had I seen from the orphanage, that I did not recognize…?

"How did you know my name?" Quistis' melodious voice had a wary, but soothing note. She was obviously suspicious, but had in mind what had just passed, and was trying to be gentle with her.

"I…" Ellone stammered, remembering Cid's injunction about not revealing her identity. "I… I heard him call you by your name."

Quistis did not seem convinced by this explanation. She threw a quick glance at the young man; but he was not looking at her. He was standing very still, his gaze, Ellone suddenly realized, transfixed on herself.

"Quistis," he said.

"Yes?"

"You… you can go. I want to ask her some questions."

Quistis had also seen the look on his face, and her eyes followed it to Ellone. She averted her gaze. But then she glanced at Ellone and said, gently, "I hope that you're all right now."

"Yes. Thank you. Thank you so much."

Quistis inclined her head slightly, and left. He remained standing, looking at Ellone. Then he said, his voice curiously flat,

"You're the girl who spoke to me at the infirmary, aren't you?"

She tried to smile at him; at this young man, this stranger. She was unsure what to do, her recent doubts about the wisdom of revealing herself troubling her. But they were speaking now, and she will have to manage it as it went. "Yes. That was me."

He averted his face quickly before her smile, his fingers curling tightly around the hilt of the gunblade. "But… but why did you say to me, 'So, we meet again?'"

So, Cid had been right…. he didn't recall her. Her smile vanished. She tried to remember her own words to Cid, "He was barely six when I left…"

She wondered what he was thinking, and found herself fighting back the urge to open a link to his mind in order to receive the answer; already knowing that, with him, it would be swift and easy. Her smile returned, melancholy now. There may be no harm in answering that question, if he didn't recall her. "Yes, we… we did meet before. But it was a long time ago."

"But where?"

She opened her mouth, suddenly feeling defiant again. He was asking her direct questions; which meant, she realized, that he had been bothered by this. And she wondered whether, despite Cid's caution, he was starting to recognize her… and, recalling his recent thoughts, how it would affect him.

Yes, she WILL tell him, she thought. Maybe Cid was right that it was reopening old wounds, and maybe risking her security; but to tell just this one person, to him— surely she could trust HIM to keep her secret; surely he will understand. And she found, again, that she wanted him to know her, and decided that she will simply have to face the repercussions. Because… because… because he was Raine's baby, he was Laguna's son… he was… he had been, that is… the boy that she had adopted as her little brother, the only remnant of the family that she had hoped to have, after her own parents had died...

But… why did she feel so intimidated now? Now that she had seen him again, and found him grown, and a stranger…

And she suddenly realized that he was still looking at her steadily, and there was something in his expression that made her own face grow suddenly hot.

Why… why was he looking at her like THAT…?

She turned abruptly, trying to conceal her sudden bewilderment, that now so revealingly shone in her face. "I— I have to go…"

"Wait— but why…"

She started to walk quickly away, ignoring him; but then, the leaves of the nearby vegetation parted, and two young men came out. She recognized them at once. White SeeDs, two of her entourage. "We were looking for you," one said, gravely. "It's not safe here, you know."

And here was her rescue, from the doubts, the confusion, the indecision from which she sought to escape. "Yes," she nodded, turning to them. "Thank you. Let's go."

"No, wait…"

But he did not say this out-loud; and he did not try to follow her as she left with the white SeeDs; too bewildered, maybe, by this strange sequence of events.

And as she turned her back on him and walked away, she felt like a coward. It was all in the past, she thought… and maybe she should let go of the past?

The past, she thought. And she recalled her own special powers, the talent for which she had been hunted by the Estharian sorceress, the power due to which she had been captured and her brain waves studied by that odd doctor in Esthar; that talent was, primarily, to send people to other times. At least, people that she knew.

And she suddenly remembered something that she had said to him, once, when they were both children; and she wondered whether she COULD change the past. Maybe, she thought, if she sent his consciousness to the past, and he would see what had happened, he would start to remember, and start recognizing her… and maybe he would also understand why she had to leave, and would not feel so jaded and alone... and maybe she could help him deal with that loss, somehow.

And maybe, just maybe, she could even change the past completely, so she would be able to keep her new family; and then she would truly have him as a little brother, and her current perplexity would disappear. Because then she wouldn't meet him again as a stranger, and he wouldn't be looking at her in the way that he looked at her now, a way that made her feel so strangely confused.

Dreamworld: Piano Bar

The research lab was constructed of steel and blue glass, and lined by monitors flashing with green lights. A large screen was humming on one wall. The two lab assistants were standing before a monitor, discussing their observations on the research data with low voices, while the small doctor was moving back and forth between the assistants and a four-year-old child in a blue gown who was sitting on a nearby chair, a helmet-like contraption set on her head. The doctor, a slightly stooped man with a crinkled face and a thin black mustache, now approached her again with his quick gait.

"Well, child?" he said. "Keep still, and I shall now ask you some questions while my assistants are adjusting ze program."

"Okay," the child said, in a clear little voice.

"So, you told me that you can also communicate with subjects zat you link with via telepathy, hmm?"

"Yes, when I link with someone, I can talk to them from far away, just a little. It's hard."

"Vell, no vonder, since you are still developing your talent. I vill say, our studies so far shows that your own consciousness can seize upon ozers', if you met them before, communicate viz zem, and manipulate zem in time. Ve vill have to make further testing to formulate ze full theory of how that vorks. But, it appears to be a zing that you have to focus on, no?"

"Yes, usually."

"And you said, you can also communicate via telepathy with the subjects under your control? And sometimes even read their minds?"

"Yes, but it only happens with people I like, just a little bit."

"So you cannot read my mind, child?"

"No. I don't like you."

The lab assistants glanced over their shoulders and whispered to each other, smiling slightly. "Ah, I see," said the little doctor. "She is a feisty one, yes. Little girl, you don't have to like me, just answer my questions and obey my instructions."

"I've been doing that. But I don't like this place. I'm waiting for Laguna to come take me home."

"Laguna? Is zat your father?"

"My uncle. Well, not uncle, but he and Raine adopted me, and he'll take me home."

"Ah, vell, if zat is your hope you may have to vait a long time, child. Ve vill test you further, and see. Ze results so far had been remarkable. You delve into the people's consciousness, seize it, and take it somewhere else, if you vish. Zat is remarkable. Can you stay in their subconscious?"

"I don't know what you mean. But when I link with the person, I see through their eyes. I can talk to them too, from a distance, what you say is tele... tele-pathy."

"Can you read their mind, when you do zis?"

"I don't know. I didn't try. I can only read minds when the person is close, I think."

"I see. Vell, Ve vill test you more today. Ve are getting excellent results. Excellent results…"

Sending people's consciousness across time had never been easy on her; after Laguna rescued her from her capture by the Esthar militia, she had not done it for many years, disliking the memories. Odine had her to practice it on test subjects, and she would find herself looking at the world into which she sent them through their eyes; a mute participant for the most part, although she found that she was able to communicate with at least some of the younger subjects since, as Odine theorized, although they were all strangers to her, she felt greater empathy with other children. Maybe, she thought, it was her longing to communicate with others her age as she spent those lonely months in that sterile lab of blue and green glass, waiting for Laguna to come and take her home.

And he finally did, and sent her back to Winhill; but he stayed behind, in Esthar, to help the resistance against their despotic ruler, the sorceress Adele. And after that, she never saw him again. She waited, and wondered, and hoped that he will send for her, and will be able to find out about his son. Odine had forced her to improve her talent by constant practice over several months, and she could sense Laguna, and knew that he was alive somewhere. So she maintained her hopes up, until the link gradually grew weaker, and almost vanished; and he never did come to collect them. For the first year or two she would speak about it to the baby, telling him that one day they'll go home together as she played with his fingers and sang to him. But this never happened, and eventually she transitioned into speaking of Laguna in the past tense, even though she still knew that he was alive.

She always remembered Laguna as an upbeat, warm, caring man who would joke and conspire with her, until Raine would shake her head and humph, "Just two children together." Revisiting those memories, she knew, may be a trial to her feelings; she had been only three or four, and she was worried that the recall may be painful for her. She never knew why he did not come to take her to him; and she was worried about what she might find out.

But it was no use living without knowing what did happen, and what could have happened. She already knew that she could manage an exceptionally strong link with Laguna's son; it had formed instantaneously, without much of an effort, and almost, in the case of the mind-reading, against her conscious intentions. She was sure that, with him as an anchor to the past, she would be able to send him, and maybe others as necessary, to visit past events that involved Laguna.

And she will, she thought, try to do it as anonymously as possible, and he will not know that she was the young woman that he had seen at the infirmary, nor that she had been Ellone. But she hoped to establish some sort of communication, if only of seeing the past through his eyes.

And could she then manage to change the past… and if so, how?

She and Cid had an interview the morning after the graduation ball, and he said that the white SeeDs informed him of the training center incident. He spoke gently, but she could detect the reproof in his voice, and hung her head. "Am I not allowed to do what I like?" she asked him. "I'm almost twenty-four now."

"This doesn't involve only you, Ellone. Anyway, he was sent on a mission to Timber this morning, and won't be back for a while."

"I understand. I don't intend to try and see him again. I gave up on that for now."

Cid scanned her averted face. "I'm sorry if it causes you distress, my dear," he said, with more warmth in his voice. "Edea had told me that the separation between you, when he was five and you ten, had been hard on you. She said that you felt guilty, and that it took you a long time before you stopped crying when you spoke about him. And I know that it had been hard on him, too. I tried to explain to him that you had to leave, but he would not respond to anything that I said. He's always been a model soldier, you know; obeys without question, rarely resists openly. But he is still stubborn on certain things, once his mind is set, and he seemed to have fixed it in his mind that he's been abandoned. There's nothing that I could do."

She brushed a hand over her eyes, still silent. He looked at her with pity. "This is, unfortunately, bigger than any of us. We can't have you get caught by Esthar again, and we can't have you seized by Galbadia now. And, as I said, some past memories may be… a little difficult for SeeDs to handle. We try to keep them focused on missions."

"Yes… I see that. And I know that… that you have your own burdens to carry. Have you… have you heard anything about Edea?"

She had tried to avoid that topic, knowing that it gave him pain since he first learned of it just a little while ago, when she and the white SeeD ship came bearing report of Edea's possession and disappearance. But she, herself, had been worrying over her. She knew that Edea was powerful, and could not be easily harmed; but she was still caught in such a precarious situation that Ellone couldn't help feeling anxious. She tried banishing this from her mind, and had partially succeeded in doing so, due to her agitated feelings when she met him again; but the anxiety would recur.

Cid did not reply. She looked up at him, and thought that he seemed careworn and defeated. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

He tried to smile at her. "Let us discuss this another time."

"All right… Good night."

Should she do it…?

She had gone to her room, laying down on the bed and closing her eyes, focusing. She wanted to practice a little first, before her final decision.

So she focused. Closer… closer… and there he was. She couldn't tell who else was with him, but she sensed two unusually receptive minds nearby. This meant that she also met his two teammates. The two SeeDs that she had seen at the ball?

Cid had told her that he and his two teammates were train-bound to Timber. The journey, she knew, could take hours. And she thought that she should probably transfer all three of them while they waited on the train, to prevent the other two from panicking as he fell under her spell.

But… should she really do it…?

One of her weaknesses had always been that since her power was not a true possession, she could not really perceive the subject person's immediate surroundings in the present until she linked to that person's mind; and once she did link to the subject's mind, the subject sank into unconsciousness within a few moments; meaning that she had only those brief moments to see the subject's whereabouts clearly. And then she had to transfer the subject's consciousness in time, in order to wake them up and have them interact with their immediate surroundings. She did not know why it was this way, but it was part of the reason why she did not like using her powers. She knew that was not safe for her subjects, unless they were somewhere that she could physically observe, or ascertain to be safe.

She focused again, seeking Laguna. She still recalled what his mind was like, and since he had been important to her, she could find him in the past by reaching out to that mind. It took her some time, concentration, and focus on memories of Winhill: breeze-blown hills, flowering grasses, bright wintry mornings— and, there he was— not in Winhill, but, it seems, at an important juncture in his life, a memory maybe—

And then she managed to link to Laguna's son again, with a speed that almost baffled her. He was, she saw now, inside a luxurious train car, with golden walls, soft couches, and decorated banks. This meant that it would be a safe place for them to have the session, locked from outside intrusion. She could also see his two teammates now. They did indeed appear to be the SeeDs who had spoken to him at the graduation night; the tiny, energetic girl, the edges of her short, smooth brown hair curling impertinently upwards; and the brash, friendly young man, his blond hair in spikes.

"Who… what…?"

It was HIS voice, floating into her mind with a baffled note, and startling her. It sounded almost like he had sensed the link that she formed to his mind, and was questioning it…? This usually didn't happen, at least not for most people. Under Odine's experimental regiment, she had learned that some people were better at sensing her, and linking with her; while others were better at rejecting her link, and throwing it off. But it was very rare that they were good at both.

She would have to act quickly, before it alerted him too much, and he tries to disconnect. She linked herself with all three minds, and, directing them to the signals that she received from Laguna's memory, whisked them away.

Soft music drifted through the hotel bar, emanating from the grand piano at which a young woman in a wine-colored silk dress was seated, her white fingers fluttering across the ivory keys with practiced ease. The ceiling was high, supported by green stone pillars, and the carpet was a velvety red. He was sitting at a table, watching her.

No… that wasn't true. He was looking at her through another's mind.

He was… he wasn't sure what was happening to him.

What is this…? A waking dream?

The soldier through which he was watching the scene was called Laguna. It was a vaguely familiar name, but he may have just heard it in passing before. He was a Galbadian soldier who had fled the Timber conflict to the capital, and decided to visit his favorite bar, and watch this pretty pianist practicing her craft. The two other soldiers, members of his squad— a slight, handsome, dark-skinned young man, and a large, rough-looking, silent man— were sitting with him at a round marble table at the corner of the bar. They were good-naturedly teasing him about his obvious infatuation with the pianist. After a spell, Laguna, talking much and doing little, was provoked enough by his friends' ridicule to make up his mind and approach her, and went up the stone steps towards the broad stage. But then he seemed to lose his nerve and left, limping back to the table under a mark of disgrace. His two companions mocked him.

What is this? Do I have to watch this guy fumble around while he's trying to get into a conversation with this woman?

The young woman had apparently noticed Laguna's attentions to her, because she finished the song and left the piano. She approached the three soldiers, and initiated a conversation. She was addressing Laguna in particular, and wished to talk to him privately. Sensing interested ears and prying eyes surrounding them, she invited him to her hotel room. He complied nervously, and she walked away, leaving him to fend off his friends' teasing remarks. But he escaped them and took the elevator, making his way to her room.

Can I get out of here now? I think that I know where this is going, and if I got this guy right, he's a talker.

Can you hear me? Yes, YOU. The one who did this. Please let me out.

Ellone was startled. He was addressing HER?

"M—me?" she stammered.

Yes, I'm addressing you.

There was no doubt about it; he WAS addressing her...

I don't know what's going on, but I've sensed you since it started.

She hasn't been careful enough, underestimating the strength of the link that she formed with him. "All right… I will."

Thanks.

She severed the link with the past.

Darkness.

She tried to sense where she was, and came up with nothing. She tried to sever the link with the past again, and could not. It already had been severed, and successfully severed, for all three subjects in question. They had vanished from the past, and two vanished from her consciousness. But not him. HE still lingered somewhere, their two minds still linked. She had not been able to sever the mind-link itself, only its tie with the past.

She tried severing the link between their minds. It resisted her.

And now she could see him, a faint outline in the darkness. He was sitting on the invisible ground, a black space with no light, himself a dark shadow. He was sitting with his head low, hair falling over his eyes, arms clasped together over his knees.

She approached him slowly. He did not move as she came near. She stopped before him and bent towards him, trying to reach out and touch his shoulder. Her fingers passed through it. His head rose slightly, and he peered up at her.

"Who… who are you? Where am I?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know. Something went wrong, I think."

"What exactly are you? Are you a ghost?"

She was baffled at this question; but then she looked down at herself and noticed that she was a pearly gray color, almost translucent, the lines of her body blurred. She guessed that her features, too, would be indistinct. Was this, then, a representation of her consciousness? And was he, sitting there, also a shadow of his own mind?

"Are you a wraith? Did you possess my mind, and take me someplace else?"

The question startled her. "No, no. I… I was trying to make you see the past, and you seemed to resist it. It happens sometimes."

"See the past? Why?"

"I… I can't tell you."

"You're playing with my consciousness, and you can't tell me why?"

"It's the only way that I can make you understand. Please believe me."

But a feeling of guilt flooded her at this pointed question. Maybe she shouldn't have… maybe it WAS the wrong thing to do. She didn't count on it going so wrong.

"I'm so sorry if it distressed you. I'm trying to see if I can help someone who is important to me. And it will involve seeing the past."

"Why? And who is this person that you're trying to help? Is it that man, Laguna?"

"…Yes. It's… Laguna."

"Well, how is he my responsibility?"

The questions kept coming, shooting swift and sharp like a barrage of bullets. She was beginning to feel a slight despair, and that she had lost a hold of her project before it even began. "If… if we help him, it will help a lot of other people as well. It will help everyone. Including people you know. Please trust me when I say this."

He was watching her guardedly, his head still low. "Why should I trust you? I don't know you."

She did not answer for a moment. Then she came to sit at his side. He followed her with his eyes as she seated herself on her knees, and peered into his face, trying to smile. "You never trust people you don't know?"

"Never."

"Do you trust people you know?"

"Depending if they earned my trust."

"How can I earn your trust?"

"By not sending me to the past without my consent."

She felt herself cringing, and lowered her eyes. "Yes," she said softly. "You're right. I should have discussed it with you first. But… I can't."

"Why?"

She was silent, and he added, "Let me guess… you can't tell me?"

She kept her face lowered. It was the first real conversation she has had with him for many years, and it was going badly. The ease they had between them in youth was long gone. Then she said, quietly, "My hands are tied. I'm sorry."

"Just please let me go back."

"I can't."

"But Why? You're the one who did this."

"That's true. But you're not letting me release us from this."

This got his attention. He finally raised his head fully. "What? I'M not letting you? You're saying that… that I'm the one keeping us here?"

"Yes. I tried to send you back, but you're holding on to the mind link. The other two didn't, and should be back. I kept them asleep, since I don't want them to be distressed when they wake up and find you unconscious."

There was another long silence. Then he lowered his head to his knees again. After a pause, he asked, quietly, "Who are you?"

She watched his guarded expression. The wall was still there; a lack of interest that masked an unwillingness to expose his raw emotions to others; a thorniness, a cageyness, and a stoic isolation. The little boy that she had known and loved, the stream of his soul turned to ice. She lowered her eyes, and clasped her hands in her lap. She now knew what she was to him.

"I can't tell you," she said softly. "But I can tell you one thing. I… I AM a ghost."

"I'm a ghost of your past."

There was silence for a few moments again, as if he were trying to digest the import of her words, and debating whether to believe them. Then he said, "Then… this has to do with… with me?" And while his tones were still curt, and his manner was far from warm, he was questioning her with something like interest now, a growing awareness of the importance of this conversation.

"Yes," she admitted.

"What?"

"I can't tell—"

"—you," he finished for her.

"You're starting to know me pretty well," she said, smiling a little.

"Someone did that to me, not too long ago. I thought that it was irritating, but now I understand why she did it."

"Why did she do it?"

"I tend to repeat myself, I think."

"Was it… Quistis?" she asked, guessing.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I… I heard how you spoke to her… in that area in the training center."

"Oh, you were there?"

"In a way," she stammered, recalling herself.

He was silent, as if thinking over this new bit of information that she had accidently let escape. But after a moment, he only said, "But maybe you'll let me know just one thing."

"Yes, what is it?"

"Where are we?"

She hesitated, recalling Odine's questions to her about people's subconscious; an awareness below one's awareness, he had explained. "I suspect that we're trapped together in your subconscious. It's a place in which a person buries thoughts and feelings. You see, I can form a link to people's consciousness, and send them to the past. But your will is very strong, and, somehow, you took over, and we ended here."

He kept his face low. "I could sense you when you… what do you call it? Linking? When you linked with us. And then I sensed you watching with us. That's why I asked you to send us back."

She smiled faintly, but didn't say anything. He was like a wall, resisting her efforts to engage him beyond that one topic. The mind of a soldier. Maybe, she thought, if she spoke a little more about the past vision that he'd seen, she could turn his thoughts in another direction.

"What did you think of Laguna?" she asked.

He shrugged. "He's a talker."

The tone was dry, and surprised Ellone into a slight chuckle. "Yes. He's your opposite."

"Does that matter?"

"No, just… he likes to communicate with people."

"Unlike me, you mean?" he said, after a short silence.

"Yes."

"Talking about everything tires me. I don't see the point."

"Yes, I can recall that about you."

Again, he gave her a guarded glance; but he said nothing. After a moment, she continued, "I was wondering something."

"What?"

"If this place is inside your mind, maybe you could change it. It's so dark and gloomy in here. Maybe you could, well… can you see if you can evoke some other setting, where we can talk in a more pleasant fashion?"

"I'm not here to stay," he said. "I want to go back."

She gave up.

"All right," she said quietly. "I'll try to sever the link between our minds again."

"Wait," he said suddenly.

"What is it?"

"Will I… will I remember this conversation between us?"

"I don't know. This is the first time that this ever happened to me, and it's almost a fluke of sorts, where I lost control. But I promise not to send you to the past again."

"So you'll never speak to me again?" he asked.

"I… well, I guess not. I'm unable to communicate with you any other way. That's the other main reason that I decided to do this."

He was silent, and she rose to her feet. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"No. I mean, don't end this yet. I… I'd like us to speak again."

"I thought that you didn't like talking to people," she said, gently teasing.

"That's different. I know that you can't tell me a lot, but I'd like us to speak again."

"Of course. I'd be happy to. Although, like I said, I can't guarantee that you'll remember. Well… maybe you'll remember, in this space, your subconscious… but probably not in your conscious mind. But we won't know until I end this."

"Is going to that dreamworld… to the past, the only way that I can connect with you?"

"In a way, yes. If I tried reaching to you when you're conscious, I'll be revealing myself, and I can't."

"I see. In that case…"

"…Yes?" she said, gently. His tone made her heart fill with hope.

"In that case… you can send me to the past. But only if I can speak to you afterwards again."

"That would be wonderful. Thank you. And you are right, we have tarried too long here, and your companions may be worried. I should try to send you back."

"I can't speak for Zell and Selphie, of course," he added, as a thought struck him at the mention of his companions. "I don't know if they'd want to visit the past."

Zell and Selphie… orphanage children again… "Those are your two teammates?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then I won't send them with you next time."

He was silent, and she said, "Get ready."

"All right." He hesitated, then looked up at her. "Goodbye, ghost girl. At least, until next time."

She smiled, although she knew that it was just a faint trace on her features. "Yes. Until next time."

It was a summer that seemed to slow down the world, gripping it with its scorching embrace. The orphanage children went to play in a nearby field. There was a shallow brown pool near an old willow tree that harbored a lively community of frogs, and the children liked to hunt them down and play with them, while the little creatures bounced around in bewilderment, unsuccessfully attempting to evade their human playfellows.

"Loooook!" cried Selphie enthusiastically. "I got a really pretty one!"

Ellone was sitting at the foot of the tree, watching the children in case someone needed assistance, or fell into the pool. "Selphie," she said, "frogs aren't pretty."

"Mine is!"

Irvine came over to check Selphie's find. Quistis, with ladylike primness, was keeping to the shallows, her dress gathered to her knees as she searched the water carefully. The other three boys were wading in the pool, occasionally shoving each other and pointing out any finds. Seifer was keeping an eye on Ellone, in case her attention wandered and he could use that opportunity to push Zell into the water.

The warmth of the day was beginning to make Ellone sleepy, and she had closed her eyes for a little while, enjoying the cool of the shade. The tree moved its branches slowly in the occasional breeze, and the rich, musty scent of vegetation in standing water mingled with the heavy heat.

"Ellone, Ellone!"

Someone was tugging at her arm. She opened her eyes, recognizing Quistis' voice. "Yes, what is it?"

Quistis pointed. Ellone looked in that direction, and perceived that one of her charges has wandered off. The brown-haired boy walked slowly through the tall grasses, his orange shirt clear against their faded yellow color. Ellone shook her head, sighing, and got to her feet. She strode after him.

When she reached him, he was crouching in the grass, examining something. He sensed her shadow falling over him, and looked up. She placed her hands against her knees and peered into his face, smiling at him. "What are you doing?"

"Hunting for nests. The birds leave them in the grass after the chicks leave, and some of them may still be around."

"But the other kids still wanted to play with you."

He shrugged, looking down into the grass. "Sometimes I like to play with the others. And sometimes I just like to be alone."

"Yes, I know," she teased him. "And sometimes you like to be just with Ellone."

Dreamworld: Timber

"Yeah, that mission apparently didn't go well, Ellone," said the white SeeD. "Cid told me that they are on the escape from Timber, and on their way to Galbadia Garden."

"But why did he send THEM? They're still green, just out of school. To help a tiny rebel group free an entire country from its invaders, which had been occupying them for almost twenty years, and are well-known to have the mightiest army of all the countries on the continent? Did he really think they could do it?"

Her voice was trembling. She didn't mean to sound like she was criticizing Cid's decisions before the white SeeDs, but the sudden fear that gripped her heart— that she will lose the chance to talk to him, and get to know him again, just as it had been offered to her after so many years— had made her unguarded.

"You will need to ask Cid about that. I don't have any answers. I'm sorry." And, seeing her passing her hand over her eyes, the young man added, more gently, "They've been trained for years to become mercenaries, Ellone. They were prepared to tackle great odds."

"Not on such a scale," she said softly, shaking her head.

But she recollected herself and, thanking the young man again, she left for her room. She wanted to take some time to think. She lay on the bed and stared into the ceiling. He had said that he wanted to speak to her again… so why not now? It would be a good opportunity to check on him, and if something had gone terribly wrong, she could alert Cid.

She closed her eyes, and focused.

She saw a green forest path, surrounded by dense thicket. Several people were conversing in the clearing, apparently debating about their next destination. She sensed frustration from him, and irritation. The voice of a girl was floating up, speaking with heat, engaging in a one-sided argument with him. He was principally silent, barely listening, because she also caught the faint echo of thoughts that expressed a mood of resistance to his conversation partner's attempt to engage him.

"Ohhhh, what a GREAT leader YOU are! How can you be so callous? Zell said that he's worried about Balamb Garden! Just because he made a mistake at the station, doesn't mean—"

Stop talking.

"So he messed up, so what? Your job as a leader is to encourage and support him!"

Look, you have a point, but please stop talking.

"Yeah, the Galbadia army is strong, but at the VERY least you could have said—"

What, you want me to tell him fairy stories, and then tuck him into bed with some hot milk and cookies? What do you think this is, a game? Is this why your group is so incompetent, with YOU as a leader? At least we get the job done.

"Don't you care about your teammates' feelings and well-being? Can't you see what I'm saying? Are you even listening to me?"

I can hear you. I'm not sure that I'm listening.

There was a pause. The girl apparently gave up on her admonishments for a moment, and was glaring at him. Ellone quickly grasped on to her chance.

…Ghost girl?

"Yes, it's me. Are you ready now?"

Yes… let me out of here. Should be pretty safe with Quistis guarding.

Heeeeey…. Heeeeeey! Are you going to see Sir Laguna?! I want to come too!

Oh… can you take Selphie too? Looks like she wants to come.

Hey! Don't leave without me, either! Just because I messed up doesn't mean… well, I want to see what's going on, with all that dreamworld stuff!

…And Zel wants to come too, I guess.

Ellone hesitated for a moment, then decided that no harm would come out of granting their wishes. She linked with all three before she realized that she barely had time to figure out where Laguna had been. She sought desperately, found him, and hastily transferred them before anything had a chance to go wrong.

She hoped that nothing did.

The clear walls of the crystalline cave shone with blue and green lights, and the three Galbadian soldiers who traversed its paths made their way carefully, knowing that discovery meant death. They were on a spying mission to an Esthar excavation site, and it wasn't going well.

Laguna was fumbling around, while his two teammates, the same two men from the piano bar, followed him. Kiros, the handsome young man with the black, braided hair, was teasing Laguna about his incompetence. Ward, the large, rough man, did not say much.

"So," said Kiros, "how will we find out what Esthar has done with that large crystal pillar that they excavated?"

"We'll just have to be careful. The main site isn't too far. We came from the other side, where I was told there are less guards."

"I hope so," said Kiros. "And was this place really… what did they call it… a Centra site?"

"That's what I was told."

"Laguna," Kiros said, after some time has elapsed. "Don't you find it curious that you were sent on this mission right after Julia, well… was showing you favors?"

"Why? What do you mean?"

"Well, she has a lot of admirers, and that commander was making veiled threats at you. And right afterwards we're suddenly sent away on this mission."

"You're too paranoid. Relax. We'll be back soon and there's nothing he could do about it. I'll take her out on a great date, with wine and roses and everything. We had such a great conversation. Told me she wanted to become a singer, I told her about my dreams of becoming a journalist and traveling the world…"

"I see. So, as always, you talked too much, my man."

"Hey, she liked it!"

"I bet she did."

Not again. Ghost girl, let me out of here.

Waaaaait, nooooo, I wanna know what Sir Laguna—

Keep Selphie sleeping while we're at it, all right? She may hear things that she shouldn't.

Heeeey, what d'you mean?! Don't baby me, I'm only a year younger than you!

"Watch out," Ward suddenly said. "Soldiers."

Laguna turned. "Oh, dammit—"

Hey— wait— Sir Laguna's in BIG trouble, we shouldn't—

Okay, then let's help them finish these soldiers, and get out of here.

The link to the past disconnected.

"I, I hope I didn't disconnect it too early," Ellone faltered. "They were all doing so well, with you three to back them up by using Guardian Forces…"

"Don't worry about it. We helped them decimate most of the troops by the time you disconnected us. I'm sure that they were okay afterwards."

"I hope so."

She came over and seated herself at his side, in the darkness. The only source of light was her own pale gray form, ghostly and shimmering. His stance was more relaxed than last time; instead of being hunched into himself, he was sitting straight and looking at her with attention.

"You know," he said, "I still have no idea what's going on. Why did you send me to that memory?"

"It was a bit of a gamble this time, to be honest. I wasn't really sure where you'd end up."

"Well, that's comforting to know. You don't seem to be all that great at this linking thing that you do, ghost girl."

She smiled. "It's been a really long time since I've done this. Not since I've been about four years old."

"Oh. That explains it. A little."

There was something almost teasing about the way that he said it, and she returned, "Not everyone are great at what they do. Not like you."

"I'm glad that you think that I'm great at what I do."

"I heard good things."

"From whom?"

She was silent.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You can't tell me."

"Well," she said, turning the topic, "what do you think of Laguna now?"

"Still a talker. And also incompetent at his job. If it wasn't for our Guardian Forces backing him and his teammates up, the Esthar soldiers would have killed him in no time."

"You're right," she admitted. "I'm really glad that the other two wanted to join you again. But I like to observe him with his teammates."

"Why?"

"I like their comradeship. They seem to make such a great team."

"Oh? I didn't think that they were doing so great."

"Why?"

"They're good friends, sure. But they don't get the job done."

She scanned him for a moment. "You… you are rather unforgiving of others' failures."

He shrugged. "It's really not my business, but if you're not good at something, don't do it. Failure in a battle can mean death. Of yours, and possibly of others."

"Yes, that's true."

"I just do what needs to be done." After a moment, he added, "But apparently that's still not good enough for my current client."

She guessed that he meant the girl who was lecturing him. "Oh, was she the client for the Timber mission?"

"Yes," he answered; without, she noticed, questioning how she knew that he had been sent to Timber. "But the less said about THAT mission, the better."

She hesitated. He didn't seem to want to speak about it, but she sensed that he may be suppressing an urge to unburden his frustration. "Was it THAT bad…?" she finally asked.

"That Timber resistance group is a bunch of inexperienced kids who don't seem to know what they're doing. I mean, they're our age, but they just don't have the training to plan or execute their missions successfully."

"But isn't this why you were sent to support them?" she asked gently, despite the fact that he was confirming her own criticism of Cid's decision to send new SeeDs.

"Our job is to execute their plans. And if they could at least plan properly it would have been nice. But their plan to kidnap the president of Galbadia— the PRESIDENT of Galbadia, you see, not the easiest target in the world— involved maneuvers with two moving trains. Let's just say that it's a miracle that it didn't end up in a crash that killed everyone involved."

"I see."

"Their leader is barely eighteen years old, and I suspect that the only reason that she was appointed leader was that everyone else in that group is so weak-willed and inept. She may also have some available funds, because I can't explain otherwise where she got the resources to obtain the tools that she did on that mission. And then it ended in disaster."

"…How so?"

He was silent for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, that one's on us. The president turned out to be a decoy, so we went to the radio station to see what the real president was up to. But then Seifer showed up to help us, without asking permission. We were all so surprised by this that Zell couldn't keep his mouth shut, and spilled out that we're from Balamb. Now Galbadia knows that we're assisting a Timber resistance group."

"Well, you're mercenaries," she pointed out, after a moment's thought. "Isn't that expected?"

"That's true, but it involves the president. That's a very big fish to be caught aiming at. And then, after we escaped, she started venting at me. Instead of recognizing what she did wrong, she focused on what I was doing wrong."

"So that girl who spoke to you is the leader of the Timber resistance?"

"Yeah."

"I did hear a bit of what she was saying. Do you think that she was wrong?"

"I'm not saying that she was completely wrong. But the moment someone starts going at me like this, I tune them out."

Yes, I remember that, she thought.

"Anyway, first she threw a fit at me because I pointed out that her group was incompetent and just not that serious. Then she didn't like it when I said that Seifer may already be dead after he was captured by the Galbadians. And finally, she went off at me over the whole business with Zell worrying over Galbadia retaliating against Balamb. It's getting rather tiring. Also, it reminds me of—"

But then he suddenly stopped. She prompted him gently after a moment. "It reminds you of… what?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "Let's just say that girls like that usually try to change me AFTER we start dating, not before. At least she's original."

"You think that she wants… she wants to date you?"

"I didn't say that. I'm just saying that girls like her always act this way. They don't like what you are, so they try to change you to fit their liking. The only difference is that these other girls go into a relationship before they try it. For the first few months, they always act like nothing that you do can be wrong. And then, out of nowhere, the complaining and the criticism start. But nothing that you do is any different than what you've done before. It's just not good enough anymore."

"Well, you don't see another person's flaws at a start of a relationship, if you're infatuated with that person," she said. "But then it wears off after a while, and all the ways in which you are incompatible start coming out. But didn't you feel like this about them, when you started dating them? Weren't you… in love with them?"

"Well, I liked some of them, at least before they started complaining. And they were usually pretty, and seemed to really want it."

"Yeah, I understand." She was glad that they were in that ethereal place of the mind, where he couldn't see her blushing. "Well, then… but this girl may not want to date you, you know. Maybe she was just trying to tell you that you need to be a better leader."

"I guess so. Anyway, I'll say just this. I may not coddle my teammates, but at least I get things done."

"That is true. But sometimes encouraging your teammates still helps to get things done."

"How?"

"Because then they could do things better. If your teammates can't perform their duties appropriately, all the burden falls on you. And then it's no longer a team, and you end up dragging their weight."

"That's true. But if your teammates aren't competent enough to do the job, they should be doing something else."

"But," she said, "what if you have to rely on a teammate who can do something that you, yourself, CAN'T do? And that's the ONLY person that you have? At that point, you will have to change how you treat that person, or the job won't be done."

He was silent, mulling this over. Then he said, "I suppose that you're right. I don't know how to do everything."

"Well," she said bracingly, "But that's that. Let's talk about something else."

"Like what?"

"Tell me a bit about Timber. I've never been there."

"It's a town like any town. I've been there a few times before."

"I heard it's very pretty. I would have loved to visit it."

"Oh."

He was silent for some time, chewing on a finger, and she waited, sensing that he was thinking about something. Then he spoke slowly. "Didn't you say that this is some place within my own mind?"

"Yes, that's my guess. Why?"

"Well… you said that I may be able to change this place, because it's inside my mind."

"Yes. I think that you may."

"All right. Just wait a moment. I'm trying something, but not sure if it'll work."

"All right."

She waited. After some moments, the darkness surrounding them began to brighten, the scenery gradually changing. Colors phased into view, blue and green and rusty orange. A town materialized around them, of wood and metal and glass; pretty buildings with arches, bronze lamps, narrow stone streets, red-tiled roofs, tiny rose gardens.

Ellone stood up, surveying the scene around her with delight. "You mean, this is—"

The young man besides her, still a shadow, also rose to his feet. "Yes," he said. "This is Timber."

After a moment, during which she tried to absorb her surroundings, she turned to him with clasped hands. "Thank you. Thank you so much!"

He eyed her for a moment. "Are you really that happy to see it? Why?"

"Well, I…" How will she explain it to him? "Most of my life, I've been confined to one place. For something like thirteen years now. I wasn't really allowed to see other places, due to safety concerns, and even then very briefly."

"Safety concerns? Because of that power to link people to the past?"

Well, she thought, it was probably easy to guess. "Yes."

"Oh. Okay."

He watched her as she began to take hesitant steps through the wide, dimly lit plaza. The town was empty of people, and felt like a mere décor within the space of his mind; but it didn't feel exactly unreal, either. "Would you mind if I explored it a bit?" she said, over her shoulder. "Just to see the sites."

"Go ahead. That's what it's here for."

She turned to him fully now, extending her hand. "Will you come with me?"

"Sure," he replied. He did not take her hand— he couldn't, really— but he fell into step at her side as she began to walk down the plaza. "I brought you here," he added, "because it's the town center. I thought that it'll interest you the most."

"Can you conjure the shops? I'd love to enter a shop and look at everything."

"Sure, why not. There's a shop with hand-made toys over there. Would you like to see it?"

"Yes, I would love that. Oh, and what's that tall building over there?" She pointed at a round, green building sitting at one edge of the plaza. "It looks interesting."

"Oh, that? It's just a newspaper. I actually scouted it a bit, when I was here. The editor talked my ear off."

"Oh? What did he say to you?"

"I don't know. I didn't listen."

She laughed, then made her way towards the store.

Ellone felt like she couldn't see enough of the sites during that hour of exploration. She went to the toy store, where she examined brightly-painted wooden dolls and train cars; to the tiny pet shop, which, to her disappointment, did not contain any actual puppies; to the smokey, dimly-lit pub, its flashing neon sign bright and glaring in the evening; to the newspaper building, so pretty outside but dingy and cluttered within; to the radio tower, where, he said, the blank screen over the steps had been scrawled with a moving message of electronic red letters which he could not duplicate, because he couldn't read them, and so he didn't try; and to the train station of steel and blue glass. There, she leaned over the arched bridge, looking down into the tracks. "I wish that the trains were passing," she said.

He was leaning beside her, and examined her profile. "Why?"

"Because then I could stand on the tracks and let a train pass through me. I'm not corporeal here, so it won't touch me. And then I'll know what no one else can— what standing and letting a train move through you looks like."

"You are more adventurous than I thought," he observed, and she thought that she saw the shadow of a smile. "But I don't think that this would be a good idea, even if the trains were moving."

"Why?"

"Ever heard of brain death? Your mind dies, but the body still functions and breathes. We get training to recognize the signs, so we'll know to evaluate a person's conditions and take appropriate actions during rescues. And if your mind sees a train coming at it, there's a chance that it may think that it's been struck, and react accordingly. And if your mind dies, you may effectively die, even if your body keeps functioning. At least, that's how I understand it."

"Oh. That's… that's terrible."

"Yes. Let's not risk it."

She laughed suddenly. "You are speaking now as if you were the older one."

"I'm not?"

"No."

"Oh. By how much am I younger?"

She hesitated. "Well… you are… how old?" she finally asked, deciding that pretending ignorance would be best. She had given him enough clues the last two meetings.

"I'll be nineteen in two months."

...And this coming winter, she thought, I'll be twenty-four. Almost five years between us. But you knew that already.

Aren't you too old for him, then…?

What? What am I thinking? Where did THAT come from?

She suddenly felt agitated. "I— let's just go," she stammered. "I think that it's a good time to end this. I don't want your teammates to be worried."

"Okay." He seemed a little taken aback by the sudden shift in the conversation, but did not ask any questions. "But we'll speak again, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"Can I, well… can I do anything in order to let you know that I want to speak to you?"

"I… I'm not sure. You can try maybe calling to me with your mind. I have some powers of telepathy and mind-reading related to my talent, so maybe I'd be able to sense it."

"All right. I'll do that."

She looked down, folding her hands. "And thank you… thank you so much for letting me see Timber. It was lovely. And… and lovely of you."

"You're welcomed, ghost girl."

She disconnected the link.

He opened his eyes and rose to his feet slowly. His teammates were sitting in the verdant forest clearing, surveying him with some concern. Quistis hastened over to him. "Hey! You're finally awake. We were beginning to worry."

"There's nothing to worry about. Let's go to Galbadia garden."

"All right… if you say so."

Later, he was lying on the bed in a small room given to him for the night in Galbadia garden, his hands folded behind his head, thinking.

He wouldn't let the ghost girl know— well, not just yet— but he remembered their interactions in great detail and clarity. They were dreamlike, but clear. He usually didn't like confiding in people; but with her, it seemed different. She was so easy to talk to, like she understood what he needed to hear, and how he would react to what she said. Like they've been good friends, all that time long ago.

But he still didn't remember.

And he wanted to remember.