What Was Left Behind

Chapter One: The Mistakes in Farewell

I own nothing, but I SO wish I did. . . wah. I cry now.

And . . . now I'm mortified so I shall stop. And hey, I have FINALLY made a Dark Cloud 2 fanfic, so I am very happy, for Dark Cloud 2 is THE BEST EVER.

Ranting over.

Please continue on downward to the actual story. Thank you.

One month. That was all it had been since he and a princess from one hundred years away defeated the Dark Element, a creature borne from the hatred of a boy named Sirus. Or rather known as the Emperor Griffon.

The princess, a fiery redhead named Monica, had appeared in his life so suddenly, appeared mysteriously in his town, though the gates were closed shut. Though she was disguised in shape-shift as a young penniless boy, when Monica did reveal herself to Max and save him and his company from one of Griffon's accomplices, he knew that the girl would make a great, bold impact on his life. And he did not think falsely, for she opened his eyes to the world and showed him marvels and tragedies he would otherwise be deprived of. So at the end, when their end came as suddenly as she appeared, he was numb when it was learned that the princess, warrior, and friend Monica had to leave. Not just a simple departure, but a leave across time--a span Max knew would be near impossible to overcome. The atlamillia were gone. There was no link.

And there was also his mother, who lived in the same era as Monica. She had vanished when he was still a child, and after just reuniting he did not wish to see her go. There was so many questions that remained unanswered between them. So, as she and Monica's minutes in his time were stretching thin, it was in his mother's arms that he was most, asking, telling, trying to attain what was lost in his childhood. When Monica did approach him at last, just when their time was nearly spent, Max realized with longing that there was not hardly enough seconds between them to share what he had to say. And there was much that he wished to tell her. The thanks, the remembering of memories, maybe a souvenir to remember each other by. But instead he had selfishly ran to his mother and ignored the girl who helped them to reunite, the one who patiently waited for him to part from his mother.

All she had said was, "You're not gonna forget about me, are you?" when she had the chance.

And he, still struck numb with the sudden realization of all the lost words between them, could only answer simply, "Of course not."

Then she was gone.

One month. That was the time since he returned to his town of Palm Brinks and was received with the grandest of celebrations. Everyone was there: his father, the Mayor, the Sheriff, Cedric, even the Firbits, along with all his friends that he had met along his great adventure.

But she was not there. She couldn't. She couldn't share in his happiness, the feeling of pride, and in the warm congratulations. Though she must be having a celebration on a much of a higher scale, he still felt that if there was to be celebration, it should be for them both, together, for without each other's help and support, there would be no merrymaking.

"Where's the girl, Max?" Erik, a boy who worked on the Blackstone Railroad, questioned near the celebration's start.

And then Erik watched as the smile from Max's face diminished. "She's gone. Bone back to her own time."

But that was some time ago. One month. In that time, Max steeled his efforts during the day to returning to Cedric's shop, repairing and creating. He resolved that he and Monica both had duties to attend to and both of them sulking and slacking would not help them reunite anyway. At night, he would return to his room in the mansion, and then on his desk he would find pictures of her, or them both, that had been taken on their journey. Then regrets would fill him to the brink, and he would bury such thoughts in sleep, for she was not coming back.

"Hey Max," the scratchy voice of Cedric inquired from behind his desk. "Why don't you go get us some breakfast from the bakery, huh?" He tossed the boy some coins.

"Sure."

The bakery, formerly owned by Polly, was only a few paces away from the maintenance shop. He pulled open the door and stepped up to the counter.

"Hello, Max. What would you like?"

Max scanned the shelves of bread and pastries for a moment before choosing some for himself and for his boss. The coins chinged onto the counter and he received the baked goods. Turning, however, toward the door, he felt the pastries slip from his grasp and fall messily onto the tiled floor of the bakery.

For a figure ran down the street. It was a boy, young in age, with a raggedy ripped shirt and bare feet. A shock of matted red hair flung a bout his face as he passed.

"M. . . M. . ." He stuttered, feeling a great dizziness rush up through his limbs.

"Max?" The shopkeeper inquired softly. "Is something wrong?"

Leaving her question unanswered and abandoning the fallen pastries, Max pushed his suddenly lead-filled legs into a sprint out the door.

He saw the boy ahead, running with what seemed a great purpose. Max trailed after, realizing that when he first met this boy he had been leisurely running, intentionally letting Max catch him. Because now, all Max seemed to do was drift farther behind.

"Moni--Monica! Monica!" He shouted--screamed into the air before him.

The boy seemed to trip for a moment, but his pace didn't slack. Nor did he turn around. He only ran down the curve of the street, making for the town gate was what seemed.

Max felt his face pull to a smirk and a giddiness filled him. He pulled right, into an alleyway, and hopped over the trash cans, making for the street on the other side. Peeking between buildings, he saw the red-haired boy approach and so Max shot out. He heard the boy's startled cry as Max tackled him to the cobblestone street.

Before he knew it, Max found himself laughing. He picked himself up, then raised the boy to his feet. The dizzy, almost sickeningly high feeling was still present.

For a moment the corners of the boy's mouth twitched, as if Max's laugh was infectious. But like all moments, it passed and the boy was frowning again.

"I am so foolish," he said and turned from Max, starting back up into a run.

Max's laughter abruptly stopped. "Monica?"

The boy ran a couple more paces then halted, so sharply it was as if a force stopped him in his tracks. He gasped and then turned around, biting his lip and hiding behind his bangs so Max could not see his eyes. After a debated hesitation, the boy took a step back toward him. Then suddenly he lunged forward, clutching to Max's arm and dragging him along with as he ran to the town gates.

"Come with me." The boy said at length.

Max couldn't think. His body seemed mechanical, moving underneath him. Somehow, Monica had come back! Clouded with that fact, he failed to see the urgency and worry in the boy's voice when he spoke.

She had come back!

It was on the railroad tracks, on one of the stone hangoffs that were on each side when they stopped, sides heaving.

"When is the next train?"

Max looked at the boy, "In about fifteen minutes." He He now sensed the troubled air. "Monica. . .?" Why was she worried about time?

The boy, who previously had his eyes averted, shook his bangs away and locked eyes with Max.

"Max." He was ready to say more, but he found himself enveloped into a tight embrace.

"Monica. . . I'm sorry. When you left, I didn't--I was--my mother. . ."

The boy broke the hug, and looked at him with a slight expression of bewilderment. Then he shook his head, avoiding Max's words. "Max." He said firmly. "Something's not right. In my time. There's been . . confusion. Misunderstandings. Please, there'll be--people are looking for me. I didn't mean to come here, or in this shape. I didn't want you. . . involved. But I realize that they might look for you to get answers."

"They?"

"It doesn't matter. If they come, you did not meet me just now. I did not come back. I was never here, understand?" His voice broke at the end.

"M--Monica. . . "

"Now turn away and go back to Palm Brinks. I never came back, okay?"

In shock, Max obeyed and faced away from the boy, began walking toward the station. He stopped. "But Monica," he said, a bit weakly, "you are back. There's so much we missed. . . "

He heard the boy heave a great breath of air, then run away from him. After a moment, Max looked back and saw Monica, no longer disguised, run along the tracks. Max gasped. Her hair was loose and whipped out behind her, but that wasn't what caught his eye, though he had never seen her hair unbound. Upon her form, clinging to her shoulders and back, was dirty, ripped cloth in worse condition than the one she wore in the boy's shape. Her feet were bare and looked sored.

That night Max didn't, since his return, didn't think of what was, how they had shared time in each other's company during the journey. Instead, he was busy shoving some spare clothes and food into a large sack. Throwing that over his shoulder, he ran down to a clothing shop before it closed. There he purchased shoes for Monica as well as some descent wear. Whatever was happening, he would help her. They had always solved things together.

Shutting the door to the shop behind him he walked, as not to gain attention, to the town's gates for the second time that day.

"Excuse me, young sir."

Max turned around; the man's voice was not recognized. Three men stood in front of him, with armored chests and helmets covering most of their face.

"You wouldn't be Maximilian, would you? Late companion to the girl Monica Raybrandt?"

Max's mind reeled. He was unprepared. "Yes. Monica--is she here?" His heart pumped furiously, but he willed himself to stay calm and not overreact. Without question, this was the "they" Monica had spoke of.

"This would be the first place she would run to."

"Run to? Why?" Max's words weren't all feinted now.

"Monica Raybrandt is under arrest."

Max gaped. What could she have done? "Under what charges? Are you sure Monica would have done something wrong? How can you arrest a princess?"

The man pulled out a piece of paper and read its contents. "Monica Raybrandt is hereby relieved from her duties as Princess of Avaran for abandoning her kingdom at a dire time, failing to put forward any action regarding the kingdom of Avaran, and failing to react to a peasant rebellion. Monica Raybrandt is under arrest for the murder of her father the King Jasan Raybrandt of Avaran, unauthorized shape transformation, and more recently, stealing a starglass from Crest the Great Sage and escaping from confinement."

um. . .that's it for now. Um, does Max have a last name? ach, stupid question, um does anyone know Max's last name? Or Monica's kingdom name? . . . Or Monica's father's name? '