Choices

I don't own Crono Trigger...still. It hasn't changed since last time. How strange. And why am I still not making any profit from this story? Mind boggling...


The battle with Lavos had been a grueling affair. It had taken him through time itself, rendering itself as many things. And in the end, although it had suffused itself with the ultimate traits of everything it had come across on their fertile planet, they had still won over it.

The feeling of finally defeating his most hated foe, while joyful, left him feeling empty.

Magus was wondering of his purpose, now. Until Lavos' defeat, his entire life had been devoted to destroying the ultimate destroyer. So what was one to do, when their purpose had run out?

The question left him feeling troubled, to say the least. All through the journey back to the End of Time, to be congratulated by Gaspar, then back to the time of the original three, he had brooded over it. He had no home to go to anymore, since he had failed then, and so he couldn't return to his sister. If he decided to go back to the dark and gloomy period he had spent the majority of his life in, he would be an outcast. None of the other time periods really appealed to him either. They all seemed so...empty. None of them held any real meaning to him. Nothing was there to make him happy. No soft smiles and sweet demeanors. No love, no family. The only thing besides revenge that had spurred him on through the years, was the thought of his sister, who he had lost.

It hurt to remember. If only I could bring her back.

Magus wasn't sure when the thought ocurred to him during the night. Was it during the shimmery parade? While they were all wandering around the End of Time? When they were saying hello to everyone? It didn't matter.

I could bring her back. Just like Crono. kept repeating in his mind. But that wasn't quite right, was it? There was only one Chrono Trigger. And it had already been used up.

What was there saying that he couldn't traverse time on his own? He could just travel to that moment on his own, or near that moment. Someone as wonderful as Schala surely shouldn't stay gone. So he made up his mind, starting to figure things in his mind.

Temporal magic shouldn't be that hard. He already had the beginnings of it. Teleporting was half of it already. Instead, he had to figure out when he wanted to go, rather than just the where of it.

Magus felt a mild surprise, when he found himself at the portal to the End of Time, at the clearing at the end of the Leene Square. He had missed everything in between. It was surprising that he felt safe enough to be lost in thought with his erstwhile companions.

They were starting to say goodbye to the friends they had made in other time periods. Magus surprised himself once more, when he quickly pulled Glenn to the side. I'm doing this for Schala, was his inner justification, knowing how unhappy something like this would make her.

"Frog knight," he hissed, starting out angering the slimy wretch, mainly because he couldn't help himself.

Wrenching his apparently skinny arm with strength not visible, the frog growled back, "What do you want of me?"

"I thought you might actually want to be human again..." Magus drawled, face full of disdain, as his eyes flashed daringly.

"You told me over your dead body," hissed the frog, a very un-froglike action. "Unless you wish for me to make it so, make your point."

Magus rolled his eyes. As if it could kill me. "I thought I had asked if you had kissed any princesses recently, on our misty-eyed reunion in my castle?"

The frog didn't find anything amusing. So he started to turn away, angry at being taunted.

"I wasn't lying," Magus told him suddenly, voice low and serious. "It was so fun waving the answer in your blind face."

Then he walked off, going through the portal without a word to any of the others. He didn't notice the looks of consternation, the goodbyes dying in their throats. Or the sad looks of either Lucca or Crono. The answer to his problem had been solved, and he didn't know how long it would take him to find his sister. So he began by going to his normal vantage point at the End of Time, ignoring Gaspar, thinking of the alterations he would have to make to the normally simple-to him at least- spells of transportation. It seemed as if only moments had passed since his ruminations had begun, but time in his current temporal location always drifted strangely.

"Well, I wasn't sure if you would get back up again!" laughed Gaspar, looking keenly over at him, voice laughing. "You've been there for a few weeks now."

Magus almost started at that, before his face took on it's customary scowl. He didn't care if the dotty old man was a guru. So he didn't bother saying anything to the old man, until Gaspar spoke in earnest to him.

"You're thinking of her again, aren't you?" came the wistful question, full of melancholy and longing.

"Perhaps," Magus murmured, not looking at the guru, instead off into the murky blackness of the surroundings.

"It may be done, but at what cost?" asked Gaspar, his eyes boring into Magus' back. "To you, or to her?"

"I will pay whatever price there be," he declared, solemn, "And whatever price she must pay, I will take in her stead."

With that, he sneered openly at the blank area where the light columns had been wavering before, but were now gone. Instead, he started to wave his hands a little, the movements precise and concise. No wasted movement, and he muttered a few words, focusing his energy, the words themselves meaningless.

Sure enough, it worked quite well, and he looked into the darkness, and visualized his time, and saw a small trail of flickers to light his way. Once more, he started forward, looking back at Gaspar to smile exultantly, uncaring of the old man's worry. Not noticing that it was directed at him, more than anything else. "Just watch me, old man."


The inside of the time rift he had created was muzzy. He followed the flickers carefully, after having thought carefully of what time he wanted to visit. He figured he would be careful first. Master the magic as much as possible, so he could stabilize it to his utmost ability when he finally found Schala. He didn't want any stray energies to harm her in any way.

He refused to think of the possibility that he wouldn't be able to find her. Instead, he clung to the surety that there was no other outcome. After all, his last life's goal had been achieved. Why not this one as well?

It could take the rest of his life, and it wouldn't matter to him, as long as he found her in the end.

His journey through the time rift was hard to gauge. It could have taken years, it may have taken less. He randomly felt older and younger both as he had walked on.

The end came, and he came out in the time he had spent the most time in. But before his war had happened. Just as he had planned. But it was somehow painful to see how bright it seemed. Before I tainted it, whispered through his mind, making him shake his head roughly. It doesn't matter.

Inspecting himself, he pulled off his gloves, making sure his hands seemed the same. He came out before a lake, and looked at his reflection in the still water. It was still the same. He had come out unscathed from time itself, without an isolated portal to protect him from the rigors of the continuum pulling at his very fibers.

Sitting down, he created his regular perimeter, sketching the glyphs in the air lazily, and putting up his hood, to block out the light.

Meditation. It was a way of sorting one's self out. Especially if they were out of sorts. Or if there was a particularly tough problem gnawing at the root of one's core. Magus meditated. He was sorting out how to cover himself from time.

Thinking it over, he believed it was the same principle as erected a barrier around himself. But time was more resilient, and never ceased tearing at him. Thinking it over, he thought it might be safer to save the power to instead keep his sister safe from time, instead.

So he got up, and began a mildly modified version of his previous spell, his words slightly different, his hands gestures a little off from before.

The tear in time appeared again, but this time seemed a small bit more stable. The confidence in his step never wavered as we walked in once more, enveloped by the black maw, before it disappeared, and following the little lights to another time.


Coming out in Antiquity, Magus felt drained. So drained, it was harder to walk than it ought to be. Somehow, he dragged himself to the little village of ramshackle dwellings, that the survivors of Lavos had begun to dub, The Last Village. Magus huffed a little in amusement, as it was the last survivors creating a new village. Surely they could have called it the first village instead?

Never look behind, he thought to himself, even his thoughts feeling blurry. The altered barrier spell takes more energy than I believed. If only to himself, he admitted that if her were to find Schala, he would have to save it for her, and leave himself bared to the wrath of time, to whatever it would do to him.

Reaching the village, he collapsed on the outskirts, having almost made it. And missed the commotion of finding him unconscious.

The elder of the Earthbound, who had survived the gigantic wave caused by the falling continent, was mildly amused to find the arrogant and rude man they had saved those years ago, once more, in their custody, in much the same condition. Although he couldn't very well look forward to the stoic man waking up. He remembered the unpleasantless of it last time, and knew they had only been saved further pain by the arrival of the Lady Schala. He sighed in sadness, remembering that she was gone, with the rest of the royal family.

The Lady had called this man, this Prophet, friend. This man had helped those brave travellers after the fall. He deserved help, even if it would be troublesome. So the old man directed the people of his village to help the man into his dwelling, even if it was shared with all of his family remaining, and some of his friends.

They carefully put the tall man onto the sleeping furs, making sure not to move him too roughly. It wouldn't do to accidentally wake up the dour man, after all. Perhaps he would be more reasonable after a good rest. So the village let the man sleep, ignoring him as much as possible. Only the old man stayed in the hut, awaiting his awakening.


Magus woke up suddenly. It hurt his head, and caused it to spin as he did so. He heard the startled gasps, and his head swiveled, eyes dangerous, as he stared at the people surrounding him.

They were Earthbound. But no, that wasn't quite right. There were Enlightened mixed in. Eating dinner together. Food.

His stomach complained, much to his embarrassment, which he didn't show. Mentally, he told it to shut up.

The disturbingly familiar old man sitting next to him had another bowl brought up, filled with the tantalizing aroma of the hearty stew.

Magus took it wordlessly, and poked at it with the wooden spoon, sniffing a little, and trying a bit suspicously, before actually taking a bite out of it. Which tasted magnificent. Perhaps it is the hunger, was the only explanation he had.

He purposefully ignored the incredulous looks cast upon him as he silently ate his food. It was a quick, efficient, and clean process. When he finished, feeling much better, he looked back at the old man. Who was smiling infuriatingly.

"Feel better?" the old man asked him, eyes crinkled underneath monstrous white eyebrows, smiling mouth almost hidden in the great gnarly white beard. In fact, all the hair covering the old man, which was quite a lot, although most of it was hidden beneath clothing, was white.

Magus gave him a grudging nod, unable to deny he felt much better for the meal.

Then the old man wordlessly gave him a cup of hot tea, which smelled familiar. He was just too tired to actually figure out what was making him not trust it, even as he drank it. The old man smiled more, encouraging him to do so, drinking his own tea to further his point.

"You must finish it," the old man urged, "You need more rest."

Magus, strangely compliant, did as he was told, and as he felt drowsy, he remembered why it seemed so familiar, and why he felt distrustful of the innocuous beverage.

It was laced with a sedative.

Then he felt the blackness melt over him, as he slowly fell back to the sleeping furs, angry, but too tired to actually feel it. The furs meeting his back and head didn't even register. It was all numb and gone.


Magus' second awakening was less sudden. The old man was still there, sewing of all things.

He grumbled to himself as he got up slowly, admitting to himself that he did indeed feel better, all things considered. Which rankled. He had been drugged, and he couldn't even complain of any ill side effects.

The old man glanced at him, before returning to his sewing, which seemed to be fixing some tunics.

"There's some bread and meat next to you," the old man told him, not looking up from his work.

Magus only stared at the old man, even if he did feel mildly hungry once more.

"Don't worry, this time it doesn't have dreamweed in it," the old man told him, face crinkling up once again, smiling.

"You dared to drug me?" Magus asked, vehement.

"You," and there was a pointed accusation in the old man's voice, "needed rest. And if last time we had the pleasure of your company was any clue, you weren't going to rest until you had scared everyone out of their wits."

Magus felt like arguing, but he closed his mouth, realizing the truth of the statement. He wouldn't have allowed any of those people to stay in the room with him while he slept. So instead he found something else to say instead, as he reached for the wooden tray next to him, covered by a clean cloth.

But stopped once more, as he realized his hands were bare, his almost claw-like nails showing. Looking down at himself, he found himself in clean woolens, undyed.

"Why was I redressed?" he growled, voice lowering in threat.

The old man wasn't intimidated this time. In fact, the old man had seemed to have grown a rather stiff backbone since their last encounter. And more education as well.

"You're other clothing needed washing. Every time you collapse on our doorstep, you seem to have been through some trouble of sorts," was the prompt answer, undiscouraged by Magus' tone. Or at least, not showing it. "It's over there." And the old man waggled his grizzly head in a direction that indicated it was on top of a small table, folded neatly. "Those Enlightened women are getting quite good at laundry."

Magus just reached for his bread and meat, which was sliced and cooked tenderly. "You have bread?" was his question, as he picked up his meal and set the tray on his lap. "How long has it been since the village was formed?"

"A few years now," the old man told him. "We've begun rebuilding our lives, and teaching those survivors of Zeal how to live without their magic."

Magus didn't reply, as he had inspected his food, sniffed at it, and ascertained that the old man wasn't lying. So he ate again, this time slower, thoughtful. He knew he was a few years off from where he needed to be. He needed to be back up at full power again before making the final trip.

He figured that he could start his search, and keep coming back to this time again and again until he found his sister.

It seemed like a logical conclusion, and he figured he wouldn't find her the first time he went in.

So he ignored the old man, until he finished eating his food.

"So, you planning on leaving again?" asked the elder, looking up from his sewing, putting the tunic down, and picking up some trousers this time.

"Of course," Magus grumbled back, hating that he had to have depended on these people. "I need to get changed now."

Getting up carefully, stretching and wiggling his arms and legs, Magus found himself to be feeling actually quite good. Then walked over to his clothing, he picked them up and inspected them. His shirt was quite clean, and smelled fresh, if mildly of some sweet plant. His boots and gloves were also just fine, and if anything, in better condition than they had been. It was disgruntling to find that all of his possessions were in good order.

Looking at the old man, he didn't care what his name was, he cleared his throat.

The old man ignored him.

"Would you leave so I can change?" he asked impatiently, glaring at he man, as he felt vulnerable in the robes. Even if he hadn't actually been wearing the armor he usually did. His clothes felt safer.

"No, I cannot," the old man answered him pleasantly, "But I can look the other way if it makes you feel better."

"Fine," Magus snarled, untying his robe, and throwing it on the sleeping furs, before picking up his trousers, and undergarments. But he refused to dress at anything other than a leisurely pace. He took his time making sure everything was adjusted just to his liking, and tucked his shirt in just perfectly, wearing dark blue pants and a black shirt. The shirt, which he had changed into after the battle, had long sleeves, which he tucked into his gloves. His pants, which went with his legs, tucked right into his boots without trying. Then came his cloak, and checking his hood, and shaking it out, it swirled right around his shoulders and into place easily.

Adjusting his gloves, Magus found his hair to be in order, and shuddered inwardly at the thought of being bathed by the filthy inhabitants of this village.

The thoughts of being touched by foreign hands disgusting him, and also unsettling him, Magus left without a word, his cloak flowing out behind him, not bothering to thank the people who had cared for him. Thanking them didn't even occur to him. Instead, he walked for a while, towards his north cape, to look out on the sea.

Reaching the cape, he wandered up it slowly, clearing his mind, for what he figured would be a monumental task. Also, mentally rigorous. It meant dredging up painful memories.

Magus stared out at the sea, his mind becoming calm, and the memories little ripples upon his inner self, he began the incantation, his intricate gestures waving, until he made a slashing motion with his one hand, a slit in space came to be, and he began walking forward to the past.


Once in time itself, he found himself walking along the path his mind carved, following the little beacons, until he found himself nearing the end of it. Which meant, he needed to begin to deviate from his path.

He felt tired and achy as he walked, and felt his regularly strong back stooped with age.

Looking at himself, he realized how old he was, and that his long hair, while straight and gleaming, as always, was silvery.

Interesting, his mind muttered to itself.

So he chose one direction, and it was a painful direction indeed, and he thougth he could see multiple paths leading to it. He found the waves here were more rigorous than other places, and wondered if it were due to the calamity that befell.

He felt the moment where he had been sent away scudding past him, but couldn't access the time. It was too full of tremors. He felt himself having a hard time walking, and found himself to be a child again.

It felt like years were coming and going as he travelled further past that point, like strong winds trying to blow him back to reality. It tore at him, but there was no stopping. At this point, he had to keep going.

He felt himself changing, from young to old, and back again.

Magus felt his essence thinning out, as he stretched his senses, trying to find the exact point in which Schala had died.

If he couldn't enter the moment, he would alter the transportation spell yet again. He would find the space where people who should be alive inhabited. Where he felt her. Where he wanted her to be, so badly, that it broke his heart, even as he yearned.

Catching on to his keening tendrils, he felt a twitch in the fabric, like a string being plucked at just the right frequency, and it pulsated back to him, and he knew he was where he should be. That she would be there, waiting for him. So he began to slowly alter the spell, voice intoning low, and almost funereal, echoing, voice being torn away by gale force winds. Until he felt the shudder, of time itself being ripped open.

And in this tear, he walked into, finding himself to be six again. It was strangely quiet here, compared to the rigors of time at this point. Looking around, his eyes straining, ears perked to hear whatever noise was available. He noticed the biting cold, loneliness crawling up his legs, like cold water. Making it hard to move. Hard to breathe.

Until he heard it, ears twitching. A slight sob. Slowly, he pinpointed the direction in which it originated, and painfully moved that direction. It was almost like swimming. As if invisible hands were holding him back. He would not be deterred.

It felt like eternity, until he saw the brightness, a slight light, illuminating an even slighter form.

Schala, curled into a ball, arms wrapped about her legs, face buried in her knees.

Magus almost flew to her side, his elation was so great. It even combatted the ever-present cold, biting at his bones.

When he reached her, he called out softly, hand going forth to hers, "Schala."

Her head came up slowly, as if asleep, until her eyes managed to focus on him, upon which, she smiled wanly, eyes managing to brighten. "Janus?"

Magus smiled encouragingly, and his hand met hers, and pulled insistently, "We need to leave now, Schala," he told her, voice reassuring. And she uncurled, and followed him, her steps slow and careful, as he brought her away from the point she had been prone. The he began the gestures once more, resting her hand on his shoulder first, making his incantation quick, opening them back up to the time waves. Then he turned around, taking her hand once more, and pulling her down to a kneeling position before him, he began his second spell, the draining barrier to protect her from time, if not himself. He planted it on her forehead with a kiss, smiling at her, before taker her hand and pulling her into the maelstrom.

The trip back was just as hard, and he was wondering where to take her in time. A place where she wouldn't be reminded of the fall of her home. He found his thoughts returning to Crono, and remembered how peaceful their time was. How sunny and carefree.

He felt himself aging once more, and heard the gasp of Schala from behind him.

"Don't worry," he whispered, voice cracked with age once more. "It'll go back."

And he continued to pull her forward, feeling himself reversing in age once more, until it stabilized as they found calmer waters. Which he kept pulling her forward, following lights, back to the time he had chosen. Focusing on thoughts of Crono, Lucca and Marle, on sunlight, on the little town of Truce, as anchors for his direction.

Until he felt her stumble behind him. Turning, he saw her, kneeling, tired. So he scooped her up, whispering tender reassurances.

"Schala, were almost out," he told her, carefully arranging her in his arms, feeling his own strength waning, as he continued to protect her from time itself.

He felt himself wandering from different ages, but staying in near to the age he had escaped the time storm at.

It felt like eternity had passed, his energy drained, until he came out in Truce.

Then gravity hit him, and he almost collapsed.

Looking at his sister, unconscious, and looking tired, he found renewed vigor. His burden was too precious to not find shelter and assisstance.

He surveyed his surroundings, and found himself near the bridge to Lucca's dwelling. It was mildly chilly out, and looked to be early spring. Not the high summer which he had left Guardia at. Early morning, too, by the look of it.

Magus dragged himself forward, trudging purposefully towards Lucca's house. The bridge creaked beneath the weight of him and his sister combined. Then it was behind them, and the path, well used by a wagon, brought them to his hopeful shelter.

Finding himself before the door, he looked at it, then shifted Schala in his arms, so she wouldn't be jarred by him banging on the door loudly.

After a few minutes of his efforts, he felt that he had never been happier to see the bespectacled girl before, sleep disheveled, with longer hair, taller, and more filled out.

Lucca's grogginess didn't last long.

Her eyes widened, as she took in the scene before her. She saw him, tired, almost thinner, and barely holding on to a bundle in his arms. A blue haired bundle that she recognized.

"Is that Schala?" she asked, mouth slightly open, looking from her to him.

"Yes," he snapped, "And I would appreciate it if you would hurry." If anything had alarmed her before, the note of fatigue that implied he would collapse at any moment was the topper.

So she hurried him in, arms gesturing wildly.

"You can use my room!" she gasped, unsure of what to do exactly. She didn't exactly have any extra beds. She just led them to her room, in a stupor, where Magus managed to shift Schala to, arranging her carefully, and brushing the hair out of her face, before just settling there, head on his arms, which were across Schala's legs, and passing out.

Blank-faced, Lucca just looked at the scene before her, before running to get Crono.


a/n: Well, travelling through time was the first scene that I had envisioned in this story. But only the first, definitely not the last. I have more planned (epic thunder and lightning ensue). Let me know what you think! I hunger for feedback!