Gerad had never been so angry in all of his life, though he was almost certain that Edgar must have spent a great deal of time in such a state; especially if one Sabin Figaro, martial artist, Prince, King and brother behaved like this during their shared youth. He gone away to clear his head, to sort out what he wanted to do next; to decide if he really truly wanted to make a leap and learn to become the man he had once been.
It had taken longer than he had thought, but then, deciding one's future was difficult. He had been gone a month. He'd then spent a further week locating and catching up with the group, only to find this.
And Gerad was furious.
He ignored the way the others were looking at him, he would explain everything to them later, now he needed to have a talk with Sabin. He waited by the door, leaning against the wall in feigned casualness, watching Celes finish tending the idiots wounds, silent and fuming as she finished up and left, with a concerned glance behind her as the door swung closed.
"You're angry." Sabin said, not even looking up.
Gerad looked at him, he looked defeated and lost. Gerad felt guilty for causing that, he did, but Sabin just didn't seem to understand. It was time to make him understand. "I'm beyond angry." He said simply. "I left to do something that needed to be done, and I come back to find that you've been consistently trying to get yourself killed? I am so far beyond angry there aren't even words."
Sabin did look up then, frowning in surprise, and Gerad could understand that, he had hardly been the most caring of individuals since he had joined up with them.
Gerad straightened and made his way across the room to the chair beside the bed and sat. "I had a lot to think about Sabin. And I couldn't make a decision here, surrounded by everyone. I couldn't make a decision around you. Because I would have made the choice for you and not for me, and that would have made both of us unhappy." He sighed, glad Sabin remained silent, this was difficult enough to say as it was.
"I'm not Edgar." He said softly. "I'm not your brother." He held up a hand to forestall the expected denials and pleadings. "I've forgotten who that is. I've tried to remember, since I realised the truth, I've done nothing but try. I can't remember anything from before I woke up as Gerad Thistle. I can't remember what the world was like before, I can't remember my… our parents, I can't remember why we're fighting in this ridiculous war. And I can't remember you."
He looked at Sabin, never taking his eyes from the other mans face, hating the way hope warred with despair there.
"I had always hoped my memory would just come back, that if something triggered it I would know everything. But it hasn't. I don't know if it ever will. And I had to think about that Sabin. I had to decide if I could stand staying with people who all expect me to be someone else. Because it isn't easy, knowing you can never fill your own shoes. I don't behave in the same way as you Edgar did, I don't say the same things and I can see that everyone notices, and everyone judges. I'm not Edgar… I don't know how to be." He looked away, feeling his own emotions well, ready to pour out.
"Wha—What did you decide?" Sabin asked finally, when the silence had stretched on.
Gerad blinked before squeezing his eyes shut. "I—I—Dammit! I want—I…"
He startled when he felt Sabin's hand on his shoulder, but he didn't fight it when he was pulled into a hug, one he was sure Sabin had been saving up for well over a year now. "Locke told me I should just be glad you were here, that you'd decided to stay at all. I think I understand what he meant now." Gerad said nothing, his voice lost now. "And you've decided to stay haven't you. That's why you came back?"
Gerad nodded slightly.
Sabin pulled back, and Gerad felt bereft of the comfort now. "In that case… Welcome home, or back… or whatever…"
Gerad swallowed. "I don't know… I can't be…"
"You already are." Sabin said. "It hurts that you can't remember, hurts more than you could ever imagine, but you never stopped being my brother just because of that. I always knew you were."
Suddenly Gerad needed to move, and was off the chair in a flash and pacing. "But I'm nothing like your brother… the way you remember him. I'm not a king, I don't know how to be one, I don't know things like when your birthday is, or any of the things we've ever done together. I don't know… I don't even know what age I am!" he exclaimed, and then whirled towards the bed. "Why are you laughing!"
Sabin was bent double on the bed, laughing like a maniac. It took him a moment of hard glaring to get himself back under control. "You don't need to worry, you're a lot more like the old Edgar than you know. I haven't seen you get that worked up since your coronation."
Gerad blinked. He retook his seat. "So… what now?"
Sabin smiled, a little worn, but content. "We go on I suppose."
"But I'm never going to be exactly like the person you remember, unless my memory does miraculously return." Gerad pressed.
"You'd never be exactly the same person, I just refused to realise that before, even if your memory does come back, you still spent over a year as someone else. You were always going to be different. But what's say we start fresh. I'll try not to make you into the brother I remember, if you'll forgive me calling you Edgar. It's just difficult to remember that you don't like it sometimes."
Gerad shrugged. "I've got to get used to it I suppose."
There was silence for a long moment, then Gerad spoke again. "Was Edgar often angry with you?"
Sabin looked at him, surprised. "Only when I did something stupid." He said.
"Like try to kill yourself by jumping in front of people in battle?"
Sabin winched. "You never did like that."
"I'm not surprised." Gerad said dryly. They would have to talk about Sabin's behaviour while he was away, but it could wait, maybe for a time when he felt more in tune with his role as his brother. For now he thought he might like to know a little more about the person he had once been. "So, what age am I?"
Right, as far as I am concerned, this is THE END of the story. I may, in future days or months return and add little extras to the end, perhaps even one where he does regain his memories. But as this story was about dealing with amnesia and how it affects those around them, I think I've covered that very well. They've come to their own resolution, and in life, there are not always perfect, happy endings.