As always, thank you so much to Poisonberries (who really deserves a co-write credit at this stage), Glynnis (for scouring out my typos) and Apathy (for read-throughs and lots of other stuff).

Golbez's words played through his mind during the return journey to Order's Sanctuary. Kain told himself that it was too outlandish to be true: soldiers did not come back from the dead. A wry smile pulled at the corners of his lips - outlandish was finding himself here in this foreign world to begin with.

Look to your deeper memories.

"Were we friends?" Cecil had asked him, when Kain haltingly asked what he remembered. Confusion had covered his face, brow creasing in concentration as he reached for a memory that simply was not there. "I'm sorry. I don't seem to remember."

He had glanced up apologetically, and Kain had let out the breath he'd been holding, realising that he'd been waiting for the flood of recognition, the memory of so many betrayals, of everything he'd said and done, to come crashing down between them. That Cecil could not remember had almost seemed like a reprieve, before the dark, heavy feeling of envy that Kain knew so well washed over him. Of course Cecil could not remember; Cecil was again free of the oppressive influence of their history, while Kain remained mired in it, even in this place.

The idea that, over time, Cecil's memories would begin to awaken curled through the pit of Kain's stomach like a toxin. Bit by bit, he would remember Kain's betrayal, and the entire series of events that had begun that day when they believed they had been sent on an innocent errand to the village of Mist. Swallowing, Kain realised that he often looked at Cecil searching for any hint that he had begun to remember – for a look in his eye, something in his manner that showed he knew Kain was someone he should neither love nor trust.

Kain closed his eyes.

What deeper memories?

Kain had long since stopped trying to force the fragments of his memory into a workable frame - there were just too many utterly unplaceable things that seemed to fit nowhere: moments from a battle that he could not recall ever having fought, against an enemy he did not recognise; walking through a land that was not Baron with comrades he had never known; conversations with the Warrior of Light that they had never had. He had written them off as a side-effect of this strange world, or things that he was misremembering. But if Golbez was telling the truth…

Kain closed his eyes again, wanting to believe that he was simply confused, that his mind was a jumble of half-remembered things, disconnected from context.

Was there ever anyone else? He heard his own voice ask the question, even as he saw his own fingers trace the length of the Warrior's side, lingering on his shoulder blade. A long pause.

Perhaps there was someone once - a friend. She knew my name. She looked to be no more than a girl, but her eyes…

In his mind's eye, Kain watched the Warrior's gaze slide away from his, staring into the distance.

I don't know what happened to her. Sometimes I think she must have died, because suddenly she was not there, and I can remember… mourning her. But there's nothing else, Kain. Nothing.

"Are you still up?"

Kain was jerked from his thoughts by the sound of Lightning's voice as she walked up behind him, her watch over. He didn't answer her nor turn to face her when she sat down next to him, stretching her legs out in front of her and leaning back on her palms.

"You're not helping anything by not sleeping," she said. "Cecil and I have got it covered."

Kain continued to look away from her; for a moment he wondered, almost scornfully, if he asked her, whether she would tell him anything about the world she had come from, the world that had produced such soldiers as her and weapons like he'd never seen. She wore no armour or mail, but she was faster on her feet than anyone he'd seen. She could heal, but she was no white mage, as the women of Baron's court had been. Where Rosa had wiled her way into getting what she wanted, Lightning punched and kicked, shouted and swore. He wondered if she too had these memories that went nowhere, fit nowhere, and what she did with them.

Next to him, she exhaled loudly, frustratedly. "If you don't trust us, then fine."

Kain barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "I trust you to keep watch," he said, keeping his tone just short of patronising. "I'm simply not tired."

"Tch." Lighting looked away from him, into the deep layers of shadow beyond. "If you want to make yourself useful then, you could go and help Cecil."

"Perhaps."

Lightning looked at him from the corner of her eye, as if measuring him up. "I thought you and him were friends, anyway."

Kain paused, wondering what she was after. "I knew him," he said after a moment, his voice guarded. "I served with him."

"Doing what?"

Again, he paused. "We were at court together. He… we were adopted by the same man."

Lightning snapped her head toward him. "That's a bit more than 'serving together'," she said. "Who was this guy?"

Kain considered obfuscating, but in the end, the temptation of hearing her reaction was too much. "The king."

She snorted through her nose. "That would be right," she muttered. "No wonder you have that pole up your ass."

"Indeed."

Lightning fell silent for a time after that. Eventually, she turned her head to look at him, and Kain almost had to grit his teeth to keep from looking back, not wanting to see the expression on her face.

"Does it bother you that he doesn't remember you?" she finally asked, and Kain was almost startled by the near-softness of her tone.

What is she really asking me? Kain wondered, swallowing, unable to comprehend what she wanted from him. "No," he answered after a pause.

The uncanny feeling that she knew crept over him, knew something more than she was saying, was looking for some piece of information from him. He wondered if he would share it with her, if only he knew what it was. They walked an uneasy path – she both repelled and attracted him for reasons he could never quite pinpoint. Abrasive and dangerous as she was, Kain always found himself flirting with what he most feared, admitting things to her that were not so wise if his goal was to keep her away. In some respects, her differences from Rosa were superficial. Despite the diversity of their methods, he could never shake the feeling that both of them had always known more about him than they let on; could see straight through the walls he had so carefully put up throughout the years to protect himself. They both had a way of forcing him to uncomfortable places with their eyes.

Was he seeking permission from her? For a moment, he almost considered revealing to her what Golbez had told him.

No, he eventually decided. The idea that had taken root in his mind – the only method to be completely sure that none of his comrades were felled by manikins – would never be acceptable to her, and he had no doubt she would denounce him to Cecil and anyone else who would listen as soon as the words left his lips.

Perhaps she'd been right, Kain reflected – he didn't trust her. In a fight, there was almost nobody else he would rather have watching his back. But in this – in allowing her to glimpse something of his inner life – the thought was almost intolerable. He could picture the scornful twist of her lip, the derision he'd see in her eyes.

Next to him, Lightning drew one leg up, exhaling loudly. "Well, whatever," she said. "I'm sure you were a barrel of laughs to grow up with anyway."

Anger lanced through Kain, hot and sudden, and he opened his mouth to ask her how she dared to presume to know anything about him and Cecil or anything that happened between them. Almost instinctively, he tightened his fingers around his lance, his blood pounding in his ears, before he snapped his mouth shut again, leashing his rage as he had done so many times in the past. He could not say anything that would tell her too much about the events of his past – perhaps not explicitly, but there was little she would not be able to infer from his anger. Certainly not for the first time – and, he supposed, not for the last – he was grateful for the shadow of his helm.

Keeping his voice level with some effort, he said, "I'm sure you too were a charming child. Your parents couldn't be more proud of what you've become."

For a moment, he saw her eyes widen with shock, and a small gasp escaped her lips. It was the first time that he could recall her ever looking anything other than fierce after he had insulted her, and he wondered if he had touched a nerve – and he realised, in a somewhat detached way, that he'd meant to. She had drifted too close, and now it was necessary to drive her away. "Fuck you, Highwind," she said, standing and stalking away. "Fuck you."

On their return, Kain had sought the Warrior out, finding him in the armoury, and together they had made their way from Sanctuary to the quiet of the Crescent Lake. They had found a cave there, huddled behind a small waterfall, and the sound of the falling water almost made up for the air's corrosive stillness.

Kain knew he would have to address what Golbez had told him some time or another, to try to find a way to verify the truth, whatever that may turn out to be. But for now, he wanted simply to push the turmoil and confusion of the last few days from his mind.

This had always been easy – far too easy. The Warrior's mouth was always receptive to his kiss; his fingers dug into his hips when Kain moved against him. At these times it was too easy to forget who he was, to believe that things were simple and that he actually was the good man the Warrior of Light said he saw when he looked at him. The anger that so often threatened to overwhelm him was dampened, at least for the moment.

He lay awake for a long time after they had finished, his calm lasting only a few minutes before he began turning Golbez's words over and over again. Such things were not possible, but turning it over in his mind, he could not think of any reason why Golbez should invent such a fanciful story, nor could he account for these miscellaneous memories, or why he should remember so much of the past while Cecil did not.

The Warrior stirred beside him; Kain had thought he was asleep, but when he looked up at his face, his eyes were open, watching Kain with an indefinable expression.

Kain almost reached up to brush his hair back from his face, but at the last moment stilled his hand. If the cycles had been continuing for some time, who knew how many the Warrior of Light had seen. Kain wondered, indeed, how many he himself had seen and how many times in previous cycles they had lain like this together, the soft fall of water the only sound.

Kain closed his eyes.

"What do you remember about your home world?"

There was a long pause, and Kain felt the Warrior go very still. "I've told you. I don't remember anything."

"Not your name?"

"No, Kain."

"No one who was special to you?"

"Kain."

"Someone must have called you by name once."

The pause that followed was so long that Kain wondered if the Warrior had simply decided he was not going to answer his questions anymore. He had almost given up hope of getting a response when the Warrior sat up, looking at him.

"Why are you asking me? You already know the answer."

Kain pulled in a breath. "You spoke of someone once."

The Warrior blinked. "I did?"

"You said she knew your name – that she'd called you by it, and you remembered walking with her. You said you remembered that she'd disappeared, but you didn't know how or why."

The Warrior blinked at him again, face utterly blank. "You must be mistaken," he finally said. "I don't recall – anyone I could I have spoken of like that. You must know. You've known me since we came here."

Kain looked into his eyes, but they were, as usual, completely clear and without guile. There was no doubt the Warrior truly believed what he was saying.

I don't know what happened to her. Sometimes I think she must have died, because suddenly she was not there, and I can remember… mourning her. But there's nothing else, Kain. Nothing.

Did the Warrior truly not remember ever having spoken those words? Kain was tempted to believe that he never had, that it had been someone else entirely whom he had yet to remember, the Warrior's face a convenient placeholder. But even as he willed it to be true, he knew it was not – the memory was too vivid, the mannerisms too completely the Warrior of Light for Kain to be placing someone else's words in his mouth. When he pictured the slide of the Warrior's eyes, the expression of total loss that Kain was not even sure he knew he was making, he knew it could never have been anyone else.

"Perhaps you're right," he muttered, leaning forward to press his lips against the Warrior's forehead. "Forgive me, my friend. Forget I spoke."

Kain did not imagine that he would be able to locate Golbez unless the man wanted to be found, but still he found himself venturing farther and farther towards the northern continent, back to the places he had encountered Golbez in the past, always alone.

When Golbez did finally elect to make his appearance, Kain was only surprised by how unsurprised he was. The man did not announce himself in any way, but Kain was aware of his coming by the dark prickle that crept slowly up his spine, and he could barely suppress a shudder at the sudden flood of memories associated with the sensation.

"It's dangerous for you to be alone so deep within enemy territory," Golbez said after a pause. Kain swallowed, not turning to face him. Golbez could be more silent and still than any man Kain had ever known, and when he did not continue, Kain might have thought that he had disappeared the same way he had come, except for the dark shadow over his back.

"You have been seeking me," Golbez said when Kain didn't speak. "Why remain silent, now that you have found me?"

In truth, Kain had only had the vaguest idea of what he'd wanted to say to Golbez, and now that he was confronted with him, all his words fled. In the end, there was only one thing he could ask him. "Why?"

Golbez stirred behind him. "Did you really come all the way here to ask questions you already know the answer to?"

Kain closed his eyes, straightening his spine. Of course, there was no question of Golbez's motivation. There never had been.

"I am no longer your creature," Kain spat, finally turning to face Golbez. "If you believe the cycles - if they even exist - can be broken, then do it yourself."

"I am being watched," Golbez said, his voice matter-of-fact. "I am not as free in my movements as you might suppose."

"Then how is it you are here now, speaking to me?"

Golbez's head turned towards him, and again Kain had to suppress the urge to shudder. No matter how much time had passed and what understandings they had since reached, Kain could never forget what Golbez had seen within his mind and the things he had seen Kain do in the Towers – the things that Golbez had made him do. He remembered, at the time, how he had dreaded the turn of Golbez's head towards him, and how sickening the fear that had clawed its way up his throat, even through the dull haze of the magic Golbez had cast over him.

"A risk I am willing to take."

Kain swallowed. "And what makes you think we are all willing to take such risks?"

The pause that followed was so long that Kain began to wonder if Golbez intended to answer him at all. Or, perhaps, if his silence was the answer to his question.

No, Kain wanted to tell him; there was no point in paying debts that Cecil himself did not even remember. Things are different now. And we are not the same.

"Your goddess saw what was necessary," Golbez continued, either not noticing or choosing to ignore Kain's frozen stare. "But she saw it too late. The chances of you – any of you - surviving to obtain your crystals at this late stage…" Golbez did not need to complete the thought. Kain closed his eyes.

"Do you really think you warriors of Cosmos can overcome?" Golbez asked after a moment of silence. "Cosmos chooses whom she will, but often her choices are far from wise."

"You speak to me of weakness?" Kain asked, anger rising in his throat. "You, of all men?"

If the jab had hit a sore spot with Golbez, nothing in his reaction showed it. "Perhaps you are right," he said, half-turning away from Kain. "Perhaps neither of us is in any position to talk to the other of weaknesses."

Kain narrowed his eyes. For a moment that seemed forever locked in his mind, he saw Cecil knocked down before him and felt dark claws hook into his mind, heard a voice that repeated kill him, kill him, over and over while his body refused to move in for the final blow. He swallowed, pushing the memory aside. "Perhaps," he said. "But I did not carry out all that you wished."

Golbez's laugh was cold, his derision somehow clearly conveyed even through the black mask of his helmet. "If you wish to attribute that to your own strength, then so be it. Did you have the strength to face him later, to attempt to atone for what you'd done?"

The words hit Kain like a slap in the face. "I atoned – "

"You ran away." Golbez's voice was mild, but Kain could hear something vicious waiting just behind it. "Of what use were you to Cecil up a mountain, alone, waiting for redemption to come to you?"

Kain turned away from him. Had he truly taken the easy way out? He could not bring himself to believe it; to allow himself to be a part of Rosa and Cecil's lives after everything that he had done was unthinkable. Even if they had forgiven him – and he had had no doubt they would – what had occurred would always be there between them: the memories of Rosa's screams in the Tower of Zot; of how, time and time again, he had betrayed them, unable even to keep his mind his own. He had done the right thing – he had taken himself away from them and gone to find the strength he had lost on Mount Ordeals.

"You're wrong," Kain managed to get out, his voice thick. "I had no other choice. I did what was right."

"Did you?" Golbez may have shrugged. It was difficult to tell beneath the enormous pauldrons he wore. "Then perhaps I was correct in my first assessment of you. Perhaps you are strong enough to do what needs to be done here." Golbez paused, looking at him. "You are not my creature, as you say. Choose your road - and your allies - as you see fit."

For a moment, Kain thought he detected mockery in Golbez's voice, but when he turned the words over in his mind again, they sounded sincere. Anger boiled up in him. To be here, once again, playing mind games with the man who had taken his life from him brought bile bubbling to the back of his throat. The self-disgust that always lay coiled in the pit of his stomach unwound, spurred on by the fury that blossomed in his chest.

You are not my creature. Golbez's words ran though his mind. Had he ever truly broken free of the yoke that Golbez had placed around his neck all those years ago? He had tried so hard to tell himself that he was a free man now, he did as he wished and could seek redemption in the way he saw fit. It had been his choice to go to Mount Ordeals to recover himself, to make himself worthy to look Cecil – to look Rosa – in the eye again.

Kain swung towards where Golbez had last stood, holding his lance in front of him. I will allow you to test my strength, if that is what you wish, he thought, but found himself looking into empty space. Golbez had vanished as silently as he had come, leaving Kain alone in the night.