A/N: Split this one up into two chapters - this one is the shorter, but I felt it was the best place to sever it. But worry not - just because you get three chapters now doesn't mean you have to wait long! Hope to have at least one more up before tomorrow...

There was no chance to speak to him before he entered the Prince Regent's office and asked for asylum.

Escaped death again, did you?

Dryden looked down his nose at the man, his glasses sliding into place, and it was clear that he wasn't sure what to make of the man kneeling before him.

"You say you have information that can bring down Zaibach?"

Folken rose to face the Prince Regent. "Dornkirk. He is Zaibach's emperor. I know what he plans."

Dryden considered him.

"And what is your plan, exactly?"

Folken raised his eyebrows, obviously not expecting an equal when it came to quickness of tongue.

"I want nothing more than peace in Gaea."

"But as you say, that is Dornkirk's plan." Dryden's arm flew out behind him, gesturing to the ruins of Palas that were just outside the window. "And I can't say I'm particularly enthused with how that's turning out."

Folken bowed his head for a moment.

I looked past him, to his brother, who stood in the doorway, looking most displeased. Then Folken spoke again, and my eyes were back on him.

"Dornkirk believes that a few deaths to bring the end to war are acceptable. I do not."

Dryden stared at him, and did not break the gaze for several moments.

"You will have to speak to the Council. I cannot make this decision without letting them in on it." He narrowed his eyes at Folken, and then continued. "But I am willing to give you the chance, Folken Fanel. I believe everyone deserves a second chance."

Dryden did not smile, and Folken just nodded once, and swept out of the room, his brother stepping aside and not once making eye contact with him.

I nodded to Dryden and excused myself, calmly leaving the office moments after Folken had departed.

His form retreated down the hallways, and I looked around quickly before calling his name.

"Folken!" I said diminutively into the empty space.

He stopped, but he did not turn to face me. I hesitated, on unfamiliar ground. What was I intending on saying? What was I intending at all?

I still hadn't decided when I walked slowly towards him.

I stood just behind him, in his periphery, and part of me wanted to reach out a hand to touch his arm, but the rest of me said that it wouldn't do to be so informal.

And that tone of voice when you said his name wasn't informal?

I didn't know what to say then. For the second time in my life, none of this was pre-planned, no possible outcomes analyzed. I was speechless.

He turned slightly to face me.

"Eries."

I looked up at him, and considered his face. So much was still the same – the harsh lines of deep and long-lived pain, that tattoo – the teardrop that I wanted to reach up and brush away.

You want to what? This isn't your dream, you stupid girl!

But the eyes – the eyes were different this time. Their toneless gaze when last I had encountered him, when he was an emissary of Zaibach, was gone. Instead he looked conflicted, saddened, and even a bit confused.

But that's where the emotion ended. The set of his mouth, his shoulders, betrayed no such weaknesses.

I opened my mouth, my reply never sinking into my conscious thought, simply flooding out.

"Folken, what happened? To your ship? I thought…I thought you were dead."

I pressed my lips together, surprised that I had revealed so much simply because he had looked at me and said my name.

"Why…why did you…why did you attack us?"

Unfamiliar territory doesn't even begin to cover this. What are you getting into Eries Aston?

He looked away from me, and his stare was not towards anything but empty space. He closed his eyes slowly, and his mouth tightened.

What are you remembering?

And like everything else that had happened in the last few minutes, I surprised myself again. My hand, of its own volition, rose to his face and I held his cheek, and gently turned his face back to me.

He flinched, and his eyes flew open, his shoulders rising with the tensing of his muscles. But he did not hinder my efforts to turn him towards me.

And I saw his eyes were imploring in their saddness, and I wondered if he even knew how to cry.

"Princess, don't," he managed to whisper, and his good hand rose from his side and took mine, still holding his face.

He held my hand for a moment, and just stared into my eyes, before pulling it down from his face, and letting it go. His human hand, seemingly so naked in its unadornment, looked so strange without his cloak. He had draped a bit of cloth around his neck and over his shoulder, covering the mechanical arm.

"Folken, talk to me," I said to him, searching his face for some indication of what was going through his mind. All I found was sorrow.

He turned his face away from me. "We're not children anymore, Princess," he said, and walked away, leaving me standing there in the hallway, watching him disappear into the corridors.

No. No we're not.

# # # # #

I stayed out of his way for the next couple of days – I couldn't decide what to tell myself that I was doing.

What do you care about him?

He needs…someone.

And that someone is you?

I don't know.