My first showing on ... I apologize at how lackluster the story is, but I'm just getting back into writing. My tactician is a little different from in the game; it's based on a Lyn/Tactician roleplay that I've participated in with my girlfriend. Read and review. I may make this more than a one-shot if it's popular at all.

It had been—what, a year, maybe longer since the last time I saw the samurai girl from the plains, and now, all of a sudden, I'm not only back in her life, but I'm fighting alongside her. She gave me a rather cold glance, sidelong over a shoulder, during the battle to liberate Castle Caelin, but I hope that was just the heat of the battle.

The battle's over now, and I have to face my fears and talk to her. Everyone else is catching up and rejoicing over our swift victory; Hector proudly showing off the Wolf Beil axe he used to "dismantle" the armor of several heavy footmen, Eliwood calmly assuring that everyone's alright, Sain trying to get in Rebecca's bodice. Everything was all well and good, save for two tortured souls.

Well, at least mine is. I don't know about hers.

She's just standing at some overpass, wistful and forlorn, one hand idly stroking the hilt of the legendary Mani Katti as the gentle breeze sends a few tendrils of light green hair skyward. Green. Never figured out how she got that as a hair color, but I never really argued, either. It worked for her.

She had probably heard me approach her from a mile away, but with how badly my heart's pounding... I guess I can't blame her. I couldn't even make it so close as ten paces when she "greeted" me, per se, with a

"You know, part of me still hasn't forgiven you for leaving."

This stopped me dead in my tracks, an icy chill threatening to stop my heart. I had hoped for a more affectionate welcome, but... "Part of me hasn't forgiven myself," I replied, instead.

"I can understand why you left. A war tactician can't get any better in a peaceful kingdom." She sighed, kneeling down to seat herself, still not looking at me. Not even a wayward glance. "I would be thankful that all isn't well in the world. It would be a shame to put a mind like yours to waste."

Or a body like hers, but thankfully, I've the tact to keep quiet about such enticing details. I paced forward a couple more steps, still hesitant to seat myself beside her. Her hand was still on the hilt of that damned blade. The one that could slit my throat just as quickly as words could stop my heart.

I don't get it. War comes, my life is in danger, and I grab a whip in one hand, a dagger in the other, barking orders to people who look up to me. My life and my reputation are on the line, and that bothers me none. A lovely girl from the plains is angry at me and possibly no longer wants my company, and all of a sudden I'm the simpering little man lying unconscious amongst the tall grasses again, frail, fragile, and worthless.

"I wasn't quite aware that you fought, either," she continued. "You're very unorthodox."

"I would agree. I left you behind, didn't I?" I made no effort to hide the shame in my voice, though at least my eyes never faltered. Maybe this all was just one big war of the heart. If I looked at it that way, I could maybe at least feign some form of courage. "Lyn... you know that I didn't enjoy leaving you behind. I... I cried."

"The great hero tactician, crying? Mother Earth and Father Sky, I thought you were stronger than that. I've seen you at your best. You could be nearly cleaved in half and still be more concerned with minor scrapes and cuts on all the rest. You look Death in the eye and laugh, yet, the rest of us would be lost without you."

"Please, Lyn, don't. I'm not that spectacular."

"Oh, but you are," she countered, turning to face me very swiftly. It sent her long ponytail in a swift green arc that caught my eye. "It only took you twelve short months to acquire that title of yours, did it not? What was it—'Jack of All Trades, Master of One'? You fight, you plan, you heal, you train, you cook, you trade, you could probably shatter mountains if you tried... like... like..."

"Twigs beneath a stallion's hooves?"

She paused, blinking at me, looking almost as if she were going to cry. This also elicited an angry glare, as she probably was of the conviction that she would cry no more tears.

"I remember your words, Lyn. I remember that cold, murderous glare in your eyes as you told me how you wanted revenge. I remember, Lyn of the Lorca, the pain and the anguish that you were suffering—that pain that rends your soul to shreds. You can't fool tactician's eyes. They see everything."

She almost looked at me as if she were going to slap me. Or worse. "I almost grew to hate you," she murmured softly. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here, doing any of this. You were my strength, and you took that away from me." That cold look in her eyes returned, and I felt my resolve wavering, almost like I was preparing myself for the Mani Katti across my throat. "And you expect me to welcome you back with open arms? You expect me to just drop everything, and act like nothing is wrong, when you've given me such pain that I've spent nearly nine months of my life doing little else but crying myself to sleep?"

She may not have said much, but what she did was enough. More than enough, more than what I needed or wanted to hear. Despair overtook me, and my tone of voice changed into something colder... "I get your point, Lady Lyndis." My words were perhaps a bit harsh, but I couldn't hear any more of this. I'd cry later, yes, but for now... I had to stop this torture. "I'll leave you to your thoughts for now. I beg your leave, now, as I must see to the provisions we have left. Castle Caelin will not fall under my watch." For a moment, I was thankful for the cold, calculating ways of a "proper" tactician; I could set aside the pain I was feeling and get away from this. From her. It was my fault she grew to hate me, but I couldn't accept that.

"I apologize for the anguish I've caused you," I added, sharply. "I'll not expect any cooperation on your part in future battles."

This hurts too much. It's not fair. It never has been.

I turned to walk away, swiftly, hoping she wouldn't see my expressionless face break down, melt into tears. I had managed three, maybe three-and-a-half steps, before I heard her call my name.

"Wait." I turned halfway to face her, giving her a sidelong glance over a shoulder, much akin to the one she afforded me on the battlefront. "Is that it? You're going to walk away from me again?"

"Isn't that what you want? For the source of your pain to leave, so you can focus on the tasks at hand?"

"I would have the source of my pain disappear, but... you're not that source."

There was a long pause at that point. Neither of us said anything for awhile. "What am I to expect, Lyn? You said yourself that you can't just accept me back as if nothing had happened. You're angry. You hate me for what I did to you. There's no hiding it."

"I know," she responded, her once strong voice now a bit more demure, a bit more forgiving. "Tactician's eyes see everything... as such, you know that we of the Sacae plains can't lie."

"Indeed I do."

"Then, by Mother Earth and Father Sky, you listen to my words," she said, rising, both hands resting idly beside her thighs. She strode forth, a slow, careful gait, until she was close enough to me, face-to-face, that I could taste her breath. It made me shiver, but it was the glimmer in her eyes that made me weak in the knees. "If you would leave me now, only then would I hate you. Only then would I truly be in pain. Please don't forsake me your... friendship again."

The stifle was quick, almost perfectly well hidden, but to me it stood out like Serra in a roomful of... well, "normal" mages. I nearly collapsed at that point, unable to say anything, and I shook my head. I think I could have cried at that point, but the tears wouldn't come. Instead, all I could do was lean forward, sliding my hands over her hips, pulling her into a warm embrace; much to my delight, her arms slung over my shoulders and she clutched me close, just as tightly. Both of our breath came heavily at that point, from frustration and fear and maybe even a little bit of relief, but as the sun set behind us I felt as if all was well in the world again.

"Please... please don't leave me," she whimpered into my neck.

"Never," I responded, a bare whisper almost inaudible in the late summer breeze.