Did anyone else actually tear up a little during the bonus base conversation in Radiant Dawn? To me it's unthinkable that the script writers could present that kind of relationship between Ike and Soren, but allow you to completely override it with an Ike-Ranulf support, or no support at all. Their relationship is the closest thing to canon this game gets.

~~ Chapter Two: Sister and Brother ~~

She felt like her insides were melting; the pain of losing her brother was almost unbearable, and hating him on someone else's behalf was almost more than she could bear.

Mist stopped in the hallway, hesitating for a long time outside the door. Her heart was fluttering mercilessly, making her breath come short and her hands clench uncontrollably. It was worse than the first time she'd gone into battle on horseback. That had been nerves: this was the thought that she might hold another person's life in her hands.

Finally, she muttered, "Get ahold of yourself, Mist," and knocked on the door.

There was no response, of course, but she'd had to try. Turning the knob, she entered.

He was exactly where he'd been for the last day: flat on his back in the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. "Soren?" Mist said softly, trying desperately to keep her voice from shaking. "Soren, I know you just want to be left alone, but I really need to talk with you."

His eyes didn't even flicker in her direction, didn't even recognize her entry. Mist stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. "Please forgive me. All of us. I should have…" She felt tears beginning to prick, and wanted to curse aloud. This wasn't how she'd meant to come in, all goopy and apologetic.

Mist took a deep breath. Yesterday had been the first time for years that she'd cried so hard: Oscar had looked almost frightened when she'd flung herself on his shoulder. She wasn't about to start sobbing at every turn… not because of her stupid, traitorous brother.

Pausing for a moment to collect herself, she stepped toward Soren, feeling with every movement that she was penetrating further into a bubble which wasn't meant to be intruded upon by any person… except one. It took all the courage she had just to keep going. How could one tiny person be so intimidating?

Finally, she made it exactly to the side of his bed; Rhys had been in and out in the last day, and a bedside stool remained. "I really have to tell you something, Soren." Mist perched on its edge, trying to guess anything, trying with no avail to read any information from that dull crimson gaze, fixed somewhere between the ceiling and the grey leaden sky above the base.

Abruptly she felt a burst of irritation: it was unfair of her, but Mist couldn't take it any longer. "Soren, look at me, and stop pretending like the whole world has stopped existing just because my— that— just because that ass left us!"

There was finally movement deep in Soren's eyes; his head moved ever so perceptibly, gaze flicking toward her, but he still said nothing. Mist glared. "Of all the people here, I'm the one you should be talking to. Yelling at. Refusing to forgive, because I was so wrapped up in myself that I forgot to think about you. And I'm so sorry that I did."

Her eyes were swelling again, and Mist rubbed at them furiously. She continued, surprised to find her voice not just even, but venomous. "I hate that he's done this to us. That he didn't even think about how much we needed him. I loved my brother, and I can't believe he's filled me with so much hatred."

She couldn't go on any more; mostly because if she did, the tears would take over, but also because that was pretty much what she'd come to say. It was Soren's turn, and if he didn't say anything soon she was going to stand up and march out of here without a backward glance. There was only so much emotion you could give in a one-sided exchange.

They were both silent for a long time; the windows were closed, but the shutters had been thrown open to let in the early morning light, and Mist could hear the soft dripping of moisture from the trees. It had rained again the night before, and the base smelled deliciously of wet earth and fresh greenery. For the millionth time in six weeks, she found herself wishing they could all go back: maybe even as far as before her father died.

When he finally spoke, she was startled by the dryness, the calmness of his voice. For all the world, it was no different from his speech in a strategy conference. "I can't stay, you know. No one here either wants or needs me." There was no self-pity in either Soren's gaze or his voice; it was just a statement.

"That's not true!" Mist cried out passionately. She felt her hands trembling, wanting to grab him and shake him. "It's not true at all, Soren! If you'd ever paid attention to anyone else, you would have noticed that we like you!"

"Oh, please," said Soren; his voice was simply tired rather than disdainful, but Mist could still feel the budding urge to smack him. "There's no need to lie. I'm not of any use to you now that Ike is gone. And let me tell you, there's no one anywhere else who needs me."

Mist stood up suddenly, stamping her foot and knocking the stool over. He flinched, even though she hadn't touched him or made any move to do so. "What is your obsession with being needed, Soren?" she demanded. "No one needs me, either! Rhys is better at healing, no one cares how good I cook even when Oscar's not here, and Titania knows how to do horseback swordplay better than me! I'm totally useless! But I'm still here, aren't I?"

Soren was already shaking his head before she finished, with a pained expression, nonetheless maddening because she knew he was deliberately trying not to understand. "There's more to being useful or needed than a skill set, Mist. If I left, it wouldn't change anyone's life. No one would care."

There was still no self-pity in his tone, but Mist was suddenly back to wanting to cry again.

Slowly, she reached down for the stool and set it back upright, then settled onto it, leaning forward. Trying to gather her calm once more, she said, "And I still think you're wrong. I would care. Everyone else would, too. You might think I'm stupid, or that I think the best of everyone, but Titania would care a lot. Do you know she's hardly stopped worrying about you since yesterday? She thinks this is all her fault, and not my dumb brother's. She's going to come in here sooner or later, and if you act like this you'll make her cry."

There was no way to miss the tiny, disdainful sniff Soren gave, as he looked toward the window. Mist reached out, trying to control her anger, and laid a hand on his. "I'm serious, Soren! Remember when Shinon called her a nosy bitch and said he would never come back to the Mercenaries? Before Rolf got him to change his mind, she cried all night. I know the two of you haven't always gotten along, but that's not important at times like this." Mist wondered if any of this was getting through to him; for all she knew, Soren really didn't have the capability to understand.

He'd gone totally stiff when she touched his hand, and seemed unable to speak. Finally, barely moving his lips, he said, "I'm different from all of you." It was almost a whisper, and she barely made out his next words. "You wouldn't want me here if you knew."

"Yes I would!" Mist yelled, and he flinched again, eyes now wide and fixed on her face. "Don't you get it, genius? You're part of my family! When my dad died he left that much behind for me, that I could still have a family that I loved. I don't care who's different, who's useful or knows the most! You're part of my family and even if you drive me crazy I love you!"

Soren cried out in pain, and instantly Mist was chagrined, pulling her hands away; she had tightly grabbed his hands, obviously jarring the unhealed tendons in his bandaged wrists. "I'm sorry—I'm so sorry," she said, more quietly but still with fervor.

She put a hand on his shoulder, and with her left hand turned his unresisting face toward her. "Please, please try to understand, Soren! Yes, you're different. You have some kind of secret that you won't tell any of us, and even though I don't know why, or what it is that eats at you, or even whether or not my brother knew when he abandoned us, you're still important. You're a weird, awkward, testy, brilliantly and impatiently self-conscious person who's really, really hard to understand and who never talks to me, and who's sometimes unbearably abrasive, but that doesn't mean I can't love you like a brother."

Soren had closed his eyes, his face tight. Mist realized that probably no one else had ever touched him so gently before, at least who wasn't doing so in the efficient capacity of healing.

Fooled by his cold expression, she didn't at first notice his tears until one rolled over her thumb. His dark lashes were almost dry, but with his eyes still closed, he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing in his thin throat. She suddenly realized that his hair wasn't black: it was a very, very dark green, so dark that it appeared obsidian.

Stroking the tear from his cheek with her thumb, Mist said softly, "Anyway, I don't know what you should do, Soren. If it's worse for you to stay here, then we can help you find someplace else. But the only thing you'll do if you kill yourself is break our hearts."

She couldn't think of anything else; her list of things to tell him was exhausted. She waited, but his eyes stayed closed, his body frozen in resistance, the tears drying in lines on his hollow cheeks. Drawing her hands away, Mist stood up, and by dint of taking deep breaths managed to keep away her own tears as she walked to the doorway.

She was not only to the door, but halfway through it, when she heard his quiet voice from behind her. "Mist…"

Turning, she saw that he had hiked himself up to a sitting position, hands awkwardly held away from the covers; his eyes were turned down to the floor, but at last, he looked up and met her gaze. "I… I'm not…" Soren struggled momentarily, hunching his shoulders. Finally, he said simply, "Thank you."

A great wave of relief swept through Mist; she felt the tension melt away from her shoulders. She ran back to him, put her arms around him—gently, this time—and kissed his cheek. She'd never really felt as much affection for the tactician as for the other members of the company: everything she'd said about his abrasiveness and secrecy had been true. But she hadn't lied, either, when she said he was like a brother. All of the Mercenaries were family to her, especially the people who'd been around when her father died.

Surprising her, as she pulled away, Soren added, "I'm sorry… if I caused you pain. You and the others." His words were a clear battle for dignity: she could hear how much he hated to tell her any of his emotions. "It… it never occurred to me…"

He couldn't finish the sentence, bowing his head: but Mist understood, and didn't bother finishing it herself. "I know. It's okay, Soren. Ike told me… just a little. About how he was your only friend." The thought of her brother was such agony that she almost didn't want to continue; but with an effort, Mist finished by adding, "Please don't think that because you didn't have friends in the past that you don't now, okay?"

Soren didn't answer, but she saw his head move ever so slightly in a nod. Ever so carefully—and so awkwardly that in another situation, Mist might have laughed—he put his arms around her in a hug. Mist sniffled, touched: she figured it would do her more good than harm, and gave up on trying not to cry.