Cecil chose to watch Shinryu's coming from the Lunar Subterraine.

The arrival marked the end of the fourth cycle that he had seen, though he only arrived at the number after some difficulty. He easily lost track of how long he spent in Cosmos's world, fighting a war that wasn't his. Without any real marker to pass time, the days blended together, and so did the repetitive missions, and so did the normal happenings of each cycle. Fighting over the same locations with the same group of Chaos warriors created a specific monotony that was easy to float through with no real mindfulness, so he had to carefully recreate his circumstances around large-scale events, and remember where he was and who he was with for the last three times he had seen the dragon if he wanted to be accurate.

The numbers didn't mean much to him anyway when he compared them to the knowledge that all of it would be repeated. All he cared to know was that he survived long enough to reclaim his entire memory, and his recollection of Baron and the Overworld and Rosa was complete.

The Warrior of Light shifted next to him, sniffing slightly in the silence, and Cecil listened to the echo as it crept through the stiff air. The sound wrapped around his mind and tugged him back to the present, and immediately his eyes burned. He didn't even realize he had been staring. He pressed his palms to his eyes and blinked away tears and stars, thinking anything else he could to plant himself back in that line of thought. Sometimes, if he was lucky, remaining in the Subterraine managed to coax a last memory or two out of hiding, and Warrior was always nice enough to extend their patrol. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't seem to lose himself again.

Just as he moved to stand, the whole place brightened. Before his eyes the colors of the world around them blanched into varying shades of gold - the grey dirt became a gritty brown, the crystals growing like fungus on the bottom of each platform glittered a garish lemon, the stars darkened from white to a sweet honey, and the clear sky morphed from violet and black galaxies to the colors of yellow sand. The air itself thickened and shimmered, uncomfortably coating Cecil's throat and lungs with each pull of breath as if he were inhaling the color itself. It startled him for a moment, until he remembered that it would be over soon. As soon as Shinryu unapologetically graced this world with his presence for a few seconds and then left again just as suddenly, retrieving and restoring the fallen, then offering Cecil's friends back to him again and again like recycled presents.

Warrior sighed, a very uncharacteristic sound coming from him, but it represented everything Cecil felt. Cecil glanced at him, squinting from the tangible glow around the gold plating on his armor. Warrior's eyes remained wide and fixated on the sky with his eyebrows furrowed, as though he couldn't decide between sadness or awe. The two of them shielded their eyes as the sky emitted one last bright flash of gold, then it was gone as suddenly as it came. Warrior was the first to break the thick silence.

"Come. Let us return to Cosmos. Our patrol is over." Anticipation crept into his normally controlled tone, and he led the way out of the Lunar Subterraine. Cecil always felt anxious at the turns of cycles. Were there any new warriors? Who survived Purification? Who hadn't? For the 'seasoned' ones, as they were called, it was as easy as looking around. Who was there before, that wasn't there now? Who had memories, who did not? And who were the new warriors, freshly plucked from their probably wonderful lives?

Cecil cared deeply for his companions' states at the turn of a cycle. Each time someone woke with no memories of themselves or their comrades, it wrenched his heart, and pity ached in his gut like a sword blow. He always did what he could to help those who had forgotten. Their apparent relief at the thought of a friend warmed him, and typically replaced the sadness with a feeling of obligation - that he had to help his comrades. That was usually enough to take his mind off of all he had remembered, all that he had left behind due to Cosmos' need of him.

"I'm a coward," he said to her. "A coward who cannot even defy orders he knows he ought not follow."

He dare not look at Rosa. He dare not look into her face, not after what he just did to the people of Mysidia. He was ashamed. Disturbed. The guilt gnawed at his heart like a worm that wouldn't stop squirming. He stared out the window to the turrets and ramparts of the castle below.

"Cecil of the Red Wings is many things," she said, "but he is no coward. Not the Cecil who I love . . . "

"Cecil!" Warrior's deep, deliberate voice broke through the fog of the fresh memory. He blinked and shook his head. The memory of her, his wife, his Rose, his everything, still swam before his eyes.

Rosa.

Just the mention of her name had his heart sinking in sadness.

"Cecil," repeated Warrior, once again cutting through his thoughts. "We are here."

He hadn't even realized they reached Sanctuary.

Cosmos sat at her usual position on the throne, but it was the woman beside her who garnered Cecil's attention. A tall warrior, with golden-blonde hair. She had it loosely gathered to one side over her shoulder, and secured down its length with several pink bands. A two-layered cape covered her back: the bottom layer was floor-length, of sheer white cloth. Hemmed with roses in gold embroidery, while the top layer was waist-length, thick gold cloth, affixed by white spiked pauldrons. The remaining wisps of hair cascaded gently between the spikes as she brushed a few pieces behind her ear. From under the sheer cape Cecil saw a red skirt that was short on one side and longer on the other, short, heeled boots. A knife was strapped to her belt, a staff across her back, a quiver of arrows down near her hip, and a bow in her hands.

"A new warrior?" Cecil asked, still in a bit of a daze from his memory. "Just one?"

Warrior frowned, understanding Cecil's implications. He tactfully ignored them. "Let us meet her," Warrior said confidently, striding forward with Cecil in tow. He stood before the goddess and dropped to a knee. "Cosmos." He bowed his head to her. "My lady," he added to the unknown soldier. He looked up into her face and faltered momentarily, then hastily stood.

Cecil stepped up to pay his respects when the woman spun, her green eyes locking directly with his blue.

His breath caught in his lungs. His jaw fell open as he choked on his polite introduction. His eyes captured every inch of her. Lacy tights running up the smooth lines of her legs. The same white and gold knee guards that he remembered. Same leather belts that she used to wear - gold, brown, and maroon. He zig-zagged his gaze along the green ties up the front. The brasier, solid gold with yellow lace over top and thin straps that wrapped around her shoulders.

No. No, it couldn't be.

Slender neck and sharp, contoured jawline. Thick lips, defined, her nose equally as slender and sharp, and her hair framed her face nicely. He staggered back several steps as his eyes reconnected with hers. Hooded, slightly downturned eyes filled with the most dazzling and familiar shade of green Cecil ever remembered seeing.

His lips mouthed her name but no sound escaped, and he melted beneath her powerfully beautiful features, just as the first time they saw each other, when she stole his affections.

"R-Rosa!"

A/N: Leave a review if you have the time!