Title: take my hand (and don't let go)

A/N: For the Future Saviors zine! Cynthia x Gerome is one of my fav ships here and such a rare pair T_T Cynthia's one of my favs too and there's so little love for her T_T

Summary: If Gerome could, he'd leave now. Disappear into the underbrush, be forgotten by time. This world, this time was not his. Unfortunately, Cynthia saw otherwise.

Unfortunately, he couldn't say no to her. He didn't know how to.

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Gerome leaned back against Minerva's warm hide, taking in the mountains looming just ahead. Another day's flight and they'd be in the heart of it. Even from here, he could hear the guttural calls of dragons, their long, lonesome cries echoing through the night. The nearest town was hours away. Out in the wilds, there was something desolate about the sense of solitude that pervaded him.

"A log for the fire, a log for the fire," Cynthia sang cheerfully as she added more wood to the campfire. "Make the flames jump higher."

Or rather, there would have been, had he been alone. Gerome tore his eyes from the mountains to his companion. She pushed the logs closer together as she hummed happily, her orange hair like a blaze in the fire's light. Her Pegasus grazed nearby, whickering occasionally when Cynthia made a particularly bad rhyme.

Noticing his stare, Cynthia grinned. "We're almost there, huh? Can't believe we made it this far!"

He looked away, grateful for the darkness. Despite all that happened, he still didn't know how to look at her properly. His ears felt hot and he blamed it on the flickering flames. "Why wouldn't we?" Gerome grunted.

"Bandits, time travelling, our parents getting hurt," Cynthia ticked off the possibilities on her fingers, "us getting hurt, a sudden heroic mission—there's a lot that could have happened."

"I guess." Gerome turned his attention back to the axe he'd been cleaning.

"So, it's great we made it this far," Cynthia concluded happily, not at all put off by his stiff responses. She never had been and he had never known why. For someone for so open, he didn't know how to read her. "Man, I wonder what it'll be like there. That place is dead in our time, right?"

"Yeah." Gerome had gone there once, after his mother's death. He had taken Minerva and flown as far and as fast as he could. The mountains had been barren then, the corpses of dragons scattered on the rocky terrain like warning signs. Minerva had cried once, twice, till he couldn't tell if the wails were from her or him.

It wouldn't be like that now. It couldn't.

"It'll be really different now," Cynthia echoed his thoughts, and for a moment he wasn't sure if he'd spoken aloud. She straightened and wiped her hands against each other, satisfied. "Alright, that should keep it going for a few hours at least."

Gerome watched her from the corner of his eye as she dug through her knapsack and pulled out a blanket. This trip was nothing at all like he'd imagined it—in his mind, he had always expected it to be a silent, quiet affair. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to say yes when Cynthia had ambushed him, wanting to come.

It wasn't hard to guess why she'd asked. As Cynthia made her way over to him, as she curled up next to him and covered them in her blanket, he would have to been blind to miss the love shining in her eyes. His mother had the same look before she'd watched him leave, his father in his voice as he gruffly told him to come back soon.

"Do you think we'll meet Minerva's family?" Cynthia asked. Her blanket was warm. She was even warmer. His skin tingled from where she pressed again him, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder.

Gerome shrugged, his eyes glued to his axe. It was easier to focus that way. "Doubtful."

Minerva made a mournful sound and he patted her hide softly. From everything Cherche had told him of finding Minerva, from the way Gregor wringed his hands as he recounted the hunt, the odds were low. There were some things time travel couldn't fix.

Cynthia stroked Minerva's side. "I think we will. We found ours, after all. And we saved the world! If we did all that, I'm sure we'll find them."

He clenched his jaw. "Don't raise her hopes."

Cynthia flicked his arm. "I'm not. We're going to do it, cause that's what heroes do. Heroes reunite families. And if we really don't find anyone, that's fine. We're Minerva's family too, after all."

This time Minerva crooned approvingly. Gerome sighed before relaxing. "Yeah, I am."

"We are." Cynthia flicked his arm again before reaching down to clasp his hand. "So's your mom and dad. And the other Minerva too." When he didn't reply, she added, "Say, you're not really going to live out here, are you?"

His eyes darted to her, but at this angle he couldn't make it her out clearly. "Is that why you're here?"

"Kinda." She yawned and shuddered, before resting against him once more. "You and Lucina have been real weird since everything ended. It's like if we take our eyes off you, you'll just disappear."

I wouldn't. But that would be a lie and for all of his faults, Gerome had never been a liar. "It's not like we belong here."

"I knew it." He could hear the pout in her voice, the grumpy puff of her cheeks. "That's so stupid—we belong here. This is our home."

Gerome snorted derisively. "No, that's—"

"That was our home," Cynthia interrupted, her grip tightening. Her nails dug into the back of his hand, leaving small half moons in his skin. "This is our home now. We belong here just as much as anyone else. Do you really want to go back to that…" Her breath caught, and he wondered if they were both remembering the same things—the barren wastelands, the ruined villages, Grima's haughty smirk. "Do you really want to go there?"

"It isn't about want," he explained, resting his hand on his axe. Part of him couldn't imagine a life without it. Perhaps part of this was about fear. "We can't interfere with the past, with their lives now. There's no room for us here."

"It's not the past," she argued softly but firmly. "This is the present."

He doubted it. But that answer would only make her sad so he didn't say anything.

"You know, your parents want you to stay. All of our parents do. We don't have to be around them all the time but…we don't have to leave either." Cynthia shook her head. "You know, despite how smart you two are, you and Lucina are forgetting something very important."

"What?"

"There's more than enough love for everyone," Cynthia explained simply, looking up now. She reached up, delicately taking off his mask before he could react. "My mom can love me and her Cynthia. Your mom can do it too. We're not taking anything away by being here."

As usual, his breath caught in the brunt of her open emotions. Despite all that happened, Cynthia had never learned how to hide how she felt. And now she left him nowhere to hide either.

"I'm glad you're protecting the other Gerome, like a real hero, but then I guess I'll just have to protect you from yourself," Cynthia added, smiling as bright as the sun. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

Gerome felt his skin burn. There was no mask to cover his blush and he abruptly jerked his head away. It was too late. Cynthia read his expression and laughed. "I like that part of you too."

"L-like…" Gerome felt his neck turn hot. He never understood how she could say the word so easily.

"Yep." Cynthia pressed the mask to her face and giggled. "I still don't know how you see through this. Maybe by the time we go home, you won't need to wear it anymore."

"We'll see." Her body pinned his right arm to his side, and he wouldn't be able to put the mask on with only one hand. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself. Gerome watched her out of the corner of his eye. "What about Lucina?"

Cynthia grinned, wide and toothy. "Morgan and Owain are watching her. The Justice Cabal is on the case."

He didn't know what to say to that. Fortunately, she didn't seem to need a response, more than content to just lean against him as he resumed his axe's maintenance. Gerome listened to her breathing shallow, her body relaxing until she leaned against him entirely.

He couldn't deny, part of him had come here to fade away, to disappear without a trace. In the wilds, it wouldn't be surprising if no one heard from him again. With all of his skills, he could live here till the end of his days.

It didn't look like Cynthia would let him. He glanced down at the girl slumbering on his arm, his mask dangling loosely off her fingers. Even if he chased her away, she'd be back.

Not that he could chase her away. Not that he wanted to.

Gerome reached down, brushing a stray curl from her face. "I wouldn't disappear without saying anything," he finally said. He owed her that much, at least.

Cynthia didn't stir. Her body stuck to his like a burr, refusing to let go even in her sleep. As though even unconscious, she could protect him from the world.

Maybe she could. With Cynthia, the impossible seemed possible, real. His parents had died, but Cynthia had stayed—throughout childhood, throughout an impossible war, throughout even time travel and the battles they faced. If anyone could keep their word, it would be her.

His expression softened and he pressed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "You won't break your promise, will you?"

She said nothing, but he was certain she smiled in her sleep.

Gerome looked up. The stars here were the same as the ones in their time, a permanence that would outlast them.

Maybe he would stay just a little longer.

Just this once, it couldn't hurt to believe.