A/N: I'm back. I didn't actually plan on writing this chapter but it kind of latched onto me and refused to let go.

As a reminder, these versions of Chrom and Robin first appeared in Chapter 9 and again in Chapter 12. I strongly recommend reading those chapters before this one.

Basic premise for those too lazy: Chrom and Robin are the modern-day reincarnations of Exalt Chrom and Tactician Robin, although in this timeline the ancient Robin's name, gender and identity were ultimately lost to time, and is only remembered as the High Deliverer. Both of them have little moments of déjà vu sometimes related to this.

Liz and Emily are the reincarnated versions of Lissa and Emmeryn.

And before I forget, THANK YOU TO ALL YOU LOVELY READERS! You make my day!

"Hey, Chrom," Robin said, throwing her backpack onto the ground and collapsing onto the couch. Next to her, Chrom, who was occupied with with mashing the buttons on his controller, stared at the television screen and hmmed absently in response. He frowned at the screen.

"I hate this game," he said under his breath. "Oh, and hello."

Robin leaned back into the couch, letting out a sigh and relaxing slightly. "Look out for those boulders. Hey. Listen. I think we're pretty good friends at this point, right?" she continued.

"Seeing as you just let yourself into my house…" Chrom replied dryly, glancing at her. On the screen, the pixellated swordsman he was controlling narrowly avoided being crushed by a falling rock. He scowled.

Robin huffed. "Your family needs to start changing up where you hide the keys. They've been in that potted plant next to the back door for two weeks now. But back to what I was saying. You know what our friendship needs to seal the deal?" she said. and waited for a response.

"What?" Chrom said eventually, still staring at the television screen.

"A road trip?"

"Yes," Chrom yelled, dropping the controller in his excitement. On the screen, his character was killed by a lightning trap.

"It's the middle of summer," Liz howled. "It's the middle of summer—why are you going to Plegia? You hate the heat!"

"Robin and I are going on a road trip," said Chrom. He was rifling through his closet and throwing every single t-shirt he could find onto his bed. He flung one too far and it hit Liz in the face. She scowled and peeled it off.

"You'll get baked alive," she said. "It's in the middle of a desert."

"…I'm bringing sunscreen," Chrom said. "Look, Robin really wants to go on this trip and she asked me to come, and I just think it'll be fun for us to hang out on the road." he picked up a shockingly bright yellow shirt, made a face, and threw it back into the closet.

"You're awfully close, you know," Liz said. She was sitting in a comfy swivel chair and she began to spin herself around slowly. "You talk to her way more than you talk to Vaike or Sully, and you've known them since you were five."

"Liz, I told you," Chrom began, annoyed. "We're friends—"

"I know! I know! I think it's just…kinda weird." Liz spun around and stared at him. "Just a few months ago you came back from the museum all worked up about finding 'your best friend'—and yeah, you actually used those exact words because you were so excited," she said, and Chrom turned back to his suitcase to hide the growing flush of embarrassment. "And I thought it was just you being, uh, you but then you two actually went and became best friends. Like, real best friends!" she threw her arms in the air, nearly falling off the chair. "You even do that dumb thing where you know what each other are thinking. It's like you've known each other for years! Was she like, your secret childhood pen pal or something?"

"Maybe I'm just good at making friends," Chrom said defensively.

Liz burst into laughter.

"Hey!" Chrom threw a pair of his socks at her. They hit her in the face, muffling her laughs. She threw them back at him.

"Those better have been clean," said Liz, still giggling. "Hey, why did Robin even bring this up? It seems a bit…sudden. Maybe she's actually a serial killer and she's finalized her plans to sell your organs on the black market."

"Shut up, she probably just thought it'd be fun." Robin had left shortly after informing him of the trip. She'd seemed somewhat distracted—it was unlike her—but Chrom had been too busy with his game to really think about it.

"You should ask her what she's got planned," Liz said. "Unless you can do your best-friend-telepathy thing."

Chrom closed his eyes and pretended to concentrate. "Mmm-hmmm…Robin says the buttons in your hair look dumb."

"I like them!" Liz picked up a cushion and threw it at him. He dodged, laughing.

Chrom had Robin on speed-dial. He was not even remotely ashamed about this.

"Hello?" said Robin. She'd picked up after the second ring. She hated letting her phone ring without answering. Chrom had once hidden her phone under a couch cushion and called it, and spent the next few minutes trying not to laugh as she all but turned the living room upside down trying to find it. In retaliation, she'd hidden an alarm clock under his bed and set it to go off at 6 AM.

"Robin," Chrom said, tucking the cell phone between his ear and shoulder. He was trying to do the dishes and talk to her at the same time. He was pleased with his level of success. "I was just wondering—you know our road trip?"

"Er, yeah," said Robin. "What about it?"

"What are we going to do in Plegia? I mean—why'd you bring it up? Just curious." Chrom carefully set down a glass and picked up a plate, frowning at the grease stains. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to help with the cooking.

"Oh, my dad died. I'm going to go pick up—"

"What!?" Chrom screeched. The phone slipped from his shoulder and fell into the sink with a small splash. Swearing, he shoved the plate onto the counter and scooped up his phone. He pressed a button. It was unresponsive.

"Hello?" Robin said, five minutes later, after Chrom had finished panicking and remembered that that he had a home phone.

"Sorry, did you say your dad died!?" Chrom said, one still-soapy hand clutching the receiver, one hand clumsily attempting to shake the water out the cracks of his waterlogged cell phone.

"Yes, I did. Where'd you go? The line went dead," said Robin.

"I dropped my phone in the sink."

"Tell me, did your high school class vote you 'Most Likely to Break Things' in your yearbook?"

"This isn't funny!" Chrom nearly screeched, feeling slightly hysterical. "Your dad—oh my god, are you okay? Do you—do you need someone to talk to, or—is the rest of your family—"

"Calm down, I'm fine." said Robin. She sounded irritated, and a little tired. "Look, my dad and I don't...didn't really get along. I haven't seen him for a while. I'm not really all that upset."

"Oh." Chrom stood in his living room, soapy water dripping from his hands and running down his arms, clutching the phone to his ear and feeling incredibly out of his depth. "So—when you said road trip—"

"The rest of my family went ahead and had the funeral without me," Robin said. Although she would have sounded normal to almost anyone, Chrom caught a faint bite to her tone. "There's some stuff that I've got to go pick up, that's all. Probably not a lot. I didn't even know he'd left me anything."

"Oh." he repeated. What was he supposed to say to that? "I'm sorry," he said eventually, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.

"Thanks," she said, her voice slightly tinny through the phone. "As for the rest of the trip, I dunno, I thought we could do some sightseeing on the way. I had a couple old friends whose houses I thought we'd stop by—if that's okay with you. I know there's some historic sites from the times of the Shepherds on the route. And there's always the Dragon's Table." she trailed off. "I haven't really had time to think about it all that much. I thought we'd make it up as we go along."

"That sounds good," Chrom agreed hesitantly. "…Robin. Are you really okay?

"I'm alright." Robin sighed. "It's not a big deal. Really."

"Okay."

"I have to go."

"Okay. I'll text you later."

"Of course. Bye."

"Bye," Chrom said, but Robin had already hung up. He set down the phone, dried his hands on the fabric of his pants, and groaned.

"Liz!" he called. "You're not gonna believe this."

Despite the seemingly tragic nature of their trip, Robin didn't seem very fazed at all. In fact, Chrom thought he was more affected by her father's death than she was. He tiptoed around her for a while before she got fed up and told him that his attempts were 'completely transparent' and she'd like things to go back to normal, thank you very much. Chrom obeyed, but kept thinking about it in the back of his head.

Robin was by far the better driver, but Chrom, whose family was very close to being Rich with a capital R, had a better vehicle. So the two of them compromised, and on a warm sunny morning the two of them set out on the highway in Chrom's shiny blue car with Robin at the wheel. Chrom contented himself with the driver's seat and radio duty.

They drove. Robin ranted about some political scandal in the news. Chrom ranted about the new television series he was watching, a historical drama about the Hero-King Marth. The two of them argued about a video game both were playing, briefly refused to talk to each other, then called a truce after fifteen minutes.

"What are you doing?" Robin groaned, and Chrom glanced out the window to see a small, bright green car weave in and out of the lanes, cutting between the other cars at an alarming speed. The driver, a tiny woman with bright green hair, blew a raspberry at him as she passed them.

"That was rude," he remarked, rolling down the window and leaning his head out. "This isn't Mario Kart!" he shouted. Robin laughed.

The next hour or so passed without much incident. The two of them settled into a comfortable silence. Robin drove, humming along to the radio when a song she liked came on and grimacing when a song she hated started. Eventually the commercials grew too annoying for her liking and she plugged in her phone to play music from her playlist. Chrom was fine with this; they spent so much time together that they'd ended up adding a lot of their music onto each other's phones for pure convenience. He slouched in his seat and stared out the window, watching fields of bright green grass flash by. Suddenly he bolted up.

"Robin! Robin, look!" he shouted.

After the long period of quiet, his outburst was so sudden that Robin was startled and jumped in her seat. The car swerved alarmingly and Chrom yelped, reaching out to steady her arm. As the steering wheel righted itself, Robin exhaled to calm her pounding nerves and stared at the road. "This better be really important," she growled, heart beating furiously in her ears.

"Uh," said Chrom weakly, gesturing vaguely out the window. "Sheep."

Robin glanced out the window. She could see a herd of bored-looking sheep grazing in the field to her right. She shot a quick glare at him before turning her attention back to the road and stifling a sigh. "Sorry," he mumbled, feeling his face warm.

They pulled off the highway after a few more hours to grab lunch. While she wasn't paying attention, Chrom stole and ate almost all of Robin's onion rings. Robin refused to budge until they drove back to buy her some more. They had another brief argument and a grumpy short drive back to the fast food restaurant, where Chrom tried very hard to convince the cheery cashier that he and Robin were not dating.

"Smooth," said Robin as Chrom nearly sprinted back towards her. He'd all but thrown his money at the cashier after the people in line behind him had shown signs of interest in their conversation.

"Take your rings," said Chrom, shoving the grease-stained bag at her. She grinned at him. Seeing him flounder about in public had clearly improved her mood and she patted him on the shoulder consolingly. He scowled and she laughed, handing him an onion ring.

Chrom insisted on driving for a while, worried that more hours at the wheel would wear Robin out. Robin protested but gave in after a few minutes of coaxing, although she watched him like a hawk for the first half an hour or so. Eventually she must have decided that his driving skills were passable and fell asleep, slouched against the window. Chrom turned down the music when it got too loud and tried not to think about why they were driving to Plegia.

Robin awoke long after the hot afternoon had turned into a warm night. She rubbed at her eyes blearily and looked out the window. The car was stationary, stopped in a parking lot near a convenience store. She glanced to her side. Chrom was not there. There was a rustling sound as she sat up and she found a scrap of paper on her lap. Buying stuff, it said in Chrom's large handwriting.

Sure enough, a few minutes later Chrom returned with a full shopping bag. He smiled sheepishly at her as he handed her the bag. "Snacks," he explained, looking immensely pleased with himself. Robin took the bag and looked inside it. There was enough food to feed a small army.

"I can split the cost," she said. Chrom shook his head, ripping open a bar of chocolate gleefully.

"It's like you said," he said. "I'm Rich with a capital R." he pressed a pack of crackers into her hand. As she opened her mouth to protest, he crammed the chocolate bar into her mouth. She made a sputtering noise and mock glared at him. They sat like that for a while in the parking lot, eating and watching a cartoon on Robin's phone.

"I'm getting tired; you wanna drive?" Chrom said. She nodded and happily switched seats with him, digging out a can of coffee that he'd bought and chugging it down in a few gulps. And they were back on the highway, the sky lit by the dim glow of stars, the road lit by the glare of headlights. Robin turned on the music and Chrom leaned back in his seat, wondering why being on the road with her felt so familiar, so right. He sang quietly along to the song under his breath.

'All at once, there was no place where I would rather be…'

The two friends traveled like that for a long while, one of them driving, the other sleeping, then trading off. Eventually both of them were too tired to go on.

"That's convenient," said Robin. "We're getting near my friend's house. He promised to let us crash there for a night."

"Brilliant," said Chrom vehemently. Sleeping leaned against the window had given him a cramp in his shoulder and he was too tall to lie down in the back seat. He stared out the window. The lush, endless fields of Ylisse had begun to turn into the dry, dusty flatlands that were ubiquitous in Plegia.

Robin hummed along to the music as they exited the highway and entered the city. The sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky in streaks of red and purple. A short while later they were standing in front of a tall apartment building. After a climb up three flights of stairs (the elevator was out of order) they reached a series of battered-looking wooden doors. Robin went over to one and raised her hand. But before she could ring the doorbell, the door swung open.

"About time! I thought you two had gotten in an accident!" said the boy standing in the doorway. Chrom glanced at him, trying not to stare too obviously. He had pale silver hair and pale skin, and he grinned at Robin cheerfully as he opened the door wider. "Come in! You look like you're about to keel over."

"Thanks, Henry," said Robin gratefully. She waved a hand at Chrom. "Henry, meet Chrom. Chrom, I met Henry in elementary school. Henry, I met Chrom at a museum and he decided he was going to be my friend."

"H-hey! You're the one who gave me your phone number," Chrom protested, hoping it was too dark for the other two to see his blush.

Henry laughed. "Nya ha ha! You're kinda funny," he said. "Come on in already!" he tugged on Robin's sleeve and the two of them stepped indoors.

The inside of Henry's apartment was like a zoo. A tankful of colorful fish was perched on a shelf next to a glass cage, where three spotted lizards basked under the orange glow of a sun lamp. A mangy orange cat that looked like it'd been through too many fights glared at Chrom as he stepped into the room, then seemed to decide he wasn't worth the effort and went back to sleep. Chrom glanced to his left to see a raccoon peering at him cautiously from a repurposed cat condo, then glanced to his right to see a wire cage containing three playful gray-and-white rats. But strangest of all, a large, wolf-like dog was curled up quietly on the rug next to a small television, and perched on the television was a sleek black crow. It cawed at Chrom morosely as he stared at it.

"You have a lot of animals," said Chrom before he could stop himself.

Henry beamed. "Not all of them are mine!" he said. "Well, some of them are. The rest I'm just taking care of! I found them injured or sick, and I'm feeding them and treating them until they can get better."

"Like the raccoon?" said Robin, bending over to cautiously examine the raccoon. It stared at her with big black eyes and rubbed its small paws together. "It wasn't here last time."

"Nope! I found her hiding under a dumpster. She'd been attacked by a big dog! I talked to her until she came out and took her home."

"Hang on," said Chrom, "you just talk to animals and they come home with you?"

Henry nodded and laughed suddenly. "Yep! I make four-legged friends wherever I go!"

The crow cawed.

"Or two-legged. I wasn't excluding anybody." Henry walked over to the crow and stroked its glossy feathers gently. "I even made friends with a three-legged bear once. But hey, that's a story for another day."

"That's amazing," said Chrom, and he meant it. Henry glanced up at him, looking appreciative.

Robin nudged him. "Hey, nerd," she said. "There's a spare room but it's only got one bed. You want to rock-paper-scissors for the couch? Two out of three."

"I'll take the couch," said Henry before Chrom could reply. "I sleep in my bed all the time, and you two look tired. Really! I thought you were going to pass out when you came in."

"Oh no, you don't have to—"

"I already washed the bedsheets, so you might as well," said Henry cheerily. "Besides, this way I can sleep next to these guys for once. He patted the wolf-dog on the head. "It's no big deal."

"Th-thanks," said Chrom, feeling slightly guilty about kicking Henry out of his bedroom, but also secretly glad he didn't have to sleep on the couch. Robin always won at rock-paper-scissors.

Later, Robin came into the guest room when Chrom had settled in and sat down on the bed. "Henry says that he likes you well enough, but if you turn out to be a serial killer he's going to murder you and sell your organs on the black market." she began to pick at a stray piece of lint on the bedding.

"Really," said Chrom. "He should talk to Liz."

"Seriously though, I'm glad you two get along." Robin stopped picking at the sheets and stared at him.

"Why?"

"A lot of people don't like Henry. They think he's weird because he likes animals better than people and he has a strange sense of humor." she shrugged.

"I don't care about that."

"Of course you wouldn't. You're too nice for your own good. Remember the mugger?"

"Shut up." Chrom threw a pillow at her. She ducked a second too late and it hit her on the head.

Well before 6 AM, every animal in Henry's house woke up and simultaneously demanded breakfast. Chrom lay wake in bed for a while listening to him rummage around the kitchen, feeding his miniature menagerie. After half an hour he decided to get up.

"Good morning!" said Henry loudly, as Chrom entered the living room. The silver-haired boy was cutting pieces of raw meat at the kitchen counter; the crow was perched on the refrigerator, watching him impatiently.

"Where's Robin?" Chrom asked.

"She's gone for a bit to see our friend Tharja. She said to let you sleep." Henry put down the knife and shoved the platter of meat chunks towards his crow, which descended greedily and began to eat with loud clacks of its beak. Under the table, the large wolf-dog was quietly eating a heaping bowlful of kibble.

Henry set the knife in the sink and turned to Chrom suddenly. "Hey, this is kinda weird," he said. "But, uh, have we met before?"

"No," said Chrom.

"That's really weird. 'Cause, see," said Henry, tapping his fingers on the countertop, "I'm pretty sure I've heard your name before. It's like I know it from somewhere. It's familiar, like déjà vu almost."

"Déjà vu?" said Chrom quickly.

"Uh-huh, it means feeling like you've already experienced something in the past."

"I know what it means," Chrom said a little too loudly, almost rising out of his chair. "I feel like that all the time—"

"No, wait! No!" Henry snapped his fingers. "I remember! Gosh, where you named after Chrom the Exalt?"

"Uh." Chrom froze. While Plegia and Ylisse got along well enough now, he was also too aware of the famous series of wars between the two countries in ancient times. The very wars that had produced famous heroes of history like the masked swordsman Marth and the hooded tactician whose name had been lost and was only known as the High Deliverer. And, of course, the Exalt Chrom. In any case, he sincerely hoped that Henry wouldn't have reason to be upset about it now.

"Yeah, I was."

"Wow." Henry tilted his head and observed him carefully for a few moments. "Your parents must have been huge nerds." he concluded, grinning.

"Why does everyone say that!?"

Henry laughed. "I'm joking! I'm joking! Don't get mad or anything. Hey, what did you mean earlier?"

"Hmm?"

"When you said, 'I feel like that all the time'."

Chrom paused, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. Well, he wanted to say, sometimes when I talk to Robin I get the feeling like we've had the same conversation before, except I know we haven't. Sometimes when we're on the road looking for history stuff, I know what the landmarks look like before we reach them. Also last night I had a dream where you were surrounded by zombies but you still had that huge grin on your face, like it was your freaking birthday party—but I can't say that because you'll think I'm crazy, and you'll kill me and sell my organs on the black market, and maybe I'm thinking about that dream too much but for some reason I'm sure you'd be good at it.

"It's nothing," he said. "Forget it."

Henry stared at him for a second, his smile dropping from his face. Then he grinned again, impossibly widely. "Hey, you wanna help feed my lizards?"

Robin came back a few hours later to find Chrom and Henry dangling a bundle of grapes in front of the three rats, which squeaked and jumped up in excitement. "I hate to cut this short," she said bemusedly as Chrom scrambled up hurriedly. "It's time to hit the road."

Henry hugged Robin tightly as they left the apartment. "Come by again!" he said, releasing her and waving at Chrom.

"Or you can come to Ylisstol," said Chrom, surprising himself. When had he begun to think of the silver-haired boy as one of his friends?

"I'll miss you, Henry," said Robin, ruffling his hair in a startlingly familiar gesture.

All too soon they were driving down the road again, Robin at the wheel, Chrom staring out the window absentmindedly.

"The Dragon's Table is pretty close to here. We should stop by and take a look before we get to my father's old house," she said. She glanced at him, but he was preoccupied with his thoughts, watching the scenery flash by. "Earth to Chrom. What're you thinking about?"

"The dream I had about Henry and a bunch of zombies," Chrom replied before he could stop himself.

Robin managed to tear her gaze away from the road for long enough to give him a scathing, judgement-filled look. "You," she said, "are a dork."

The Dragon's Table rose ominously out of the blowing sands, a huge stone plateau guarded by old statues of coiled, winged serpents. The desert wind rushed and blew fiercely, flinging stinging grains of sand into the air.

The Grimleal priests who had worshipped at the Table in ancient times might have been disgruntled to notice that there was a parking lot full of cars a little ways away from the giant stone platform, along with a small booth handing out audio guides.

"That's a big staircase," said Robin as the two of them eyed the winding stone steps up to the Table. Chrom rubbed the sand out of his eyes for the fifth time in ten minutes. There was a brief, thoughtful pause as they stared at the towering stairs.

"First one up gets to pick where we eat tonight," she said.

"Alright. Bye." And Chrom was sprinting up the stairs in a flash, laughing as he heard Robin's annoyed shout from below: "I didn't say start yet!"

Robin was the faster runner, but Chrom had far more stamina (they had discovered this a few weeks previously, when they'd had to sprint to the library before closing time). Although she overtook him initially, she eventually fell behind and he made it to the top with her panting at his heels. "Yes!" he hissed, throwing his arms in the air. A couple tourists stared at him.

"Cheater," said Robin, but she was quickly distracted by the sight of the Dragon's Table and the view of the desert wastelands around them. In the center of the circular stone platform, a metal statue had been erected, and Chrom quickly realized that it was of the Exalt he had been named after. He took a few steps forward and glanced down at the plaque. CHROM, EXALTED, it said in bold letters.

"Amazing," he heard Robin mutter. She was wandering off to examine the intricate patterns carved into a pillar. "Are those eyes?"

Chrom was left to his own devices for a while and he gazed at the stone plateau, imaging the legendary battle the Shepherds had fought against a sinister spirit of darkness. He closed his eyes, imagining the epic battle the Shepherds had fought on this very soil. He was standing where history had been made, and he imagined the Exalt, his namesake, wielding the holy sword Falchion alongside the High Deliverer and their tomes of lightning. It must have been a grand sight, this historic battle, and what Chrom would have given to have been there, to see what they had seen, to know what the Exalt had felt at that moment—

—GodsNOpleasedon'tleaveyoupromisedyouPROMISEDPLEASE—

Chrom nearly fell over as a wave of some terrible, crushing emotion hit him. Grief? Desperation? Despair? And for a second the silence of the plateau had come alive with shouts and the ringing, metallic sound of clashing swords. His eyes shot open, his breath coming in short bursts, his nerves thrumming with energy as if he'd been running for miles. What was that? He paused, looking around him nervously, almost expecting some specter from the past to spring up. But there was nothing there.

"Was that what you felt?" he whispered wonderingly into the wind. In the distance, the statue of the Exalt stared back at him somberly. "Why?"

"Chrom?"

Chrom nearly fell over in his surprise and turned to see Robin beside him, frowning. She stared at him in concern.

"You're crying," she said.

"No, I'm—" he reached up and touched his cheek to feel the wetness of a tear. When had he started to cry?

"Is it the wind? Agh, I'm sorry," Robin said, reaching up to rub at her eyes tiredly. "Plegia weather takes a little getting used to. Sorry I dragged you here."

"No," Chrom said suddenly, with such conviction that he surprised himself. Robin looked up at him and he gave her a strange smile. "I'm glad you're here with me."

She stared at him and eventually returned his smile. "It's amazing how you can say the cheesiest things with the most serious expression," she said. "But in all seriousness, I'm glad too. Now come on. I heard a tour guide say there's supposed to be more stuff from ancient Ylisse around here…"

Robin's house was old, but sturdy. It looked like generations had lived in its yellowing walls and grown up under its tiled wooden roof. It wasn't a very big house, but it wasn't small either—just the size to be called cozy. There was a dog chained up near the garden in the front yard, its black fur sleek and shining. It barked at the car as it pulled up.

"Wait in the car," Robin said.

"I can come with you if you'd like," said Chrom. It was fairly late, and the sunlight was fading as the sky darkened.

"No," she said, and sighed. "The rest of the family's already left. It's just my older sister, maybe my brother, in the house. I'm just gonna go in, pick up whatever they've got for me, and leave. It'll be quick."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive." She took a deep breath, poked him in the arm, and said, "don't eat all the Oreos while I'm gone."

"I would never!" Chrom protested. Robin had already opened the door and exited the car, laughing slightly. He relaxed a little, feeling slightly reassured that his presence was able to cheer her up. He watched her as she walked into the yard, giving the black dog an absent pat on the head, and up to the front door. She rang the doorbell and the door was opened by another silver-haired woman whose face Chrom couldn't see. There was a tense moment, then she stepped aside and Robin entered the house. The door swung shut.

Five minutes passed. Then ten minutes. Then fifteen. Chrom fiddled with his phone, ate all but three of the Oreos, stared at the intimidating black dog (which stared back), and tried to imagine what Robin's life was like when she was growing up. He wiped dust off the nooks and crannies in the car, cleaned up some of the wrappers lying around, and turned on some music (the silence was bothering him). He looked at his watch. It had been twenty-five minutes.

After he wasted a good amount of time going through every app on his phone, forty minutes had passed. Chrom, who had just promised himself that he would march up to the front door and ring the doorbell if Robin didn't come out after another five minutes, was relieved to see her exit the old house. She walked quickly, with a thoughtful expression on her face. In her hands was a battered box.

"I thought you'd been kidnapped," Chrom blurted out as she got into the car. She flashed him a quick smile. "I'm fine," she said, setting the box down. He took a closer look at it. It was made of wood and looked old, covered in carvings and faded paint. The designs were too abstract and worn-down for him to make out. "What's in the box?" he said.

"Dunno," said Robin, starting the car and flicking on the headlights.

"Don't you want to find out?" he said as casually as he could, even though he was dying to know what they'd driven so far to retrieve.

"I'm not in a hurry," said Robin, backing the car out of the driveway.

Chrom was overcome with a surprisingly immature urge to say "I am!", but he kept his mouth shut. Robin turned the music up louder and hummed along absently. "I'll open it when I get home," she said. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, but—"

"Great. Let's find somewhere nice to eat. I'm tired of drive-thru food. We can stop by some local landmarks tomorrow."

They found a local restaurant that was open late. Robin insisted on forcing him to try Plegian food and he ended up liking it so much that he almost forgot about The Box. After they'd finished eating they began the long drive back, the stars glittering above in the black sky.

"You're alive!" Liz said as Chrom stomped through the doorway of their house, carrying his bag in his hand. He collapsed on the couch and groaned, stretching luxuriously. "Hey, Liz," he mumbled. After they'd picked up The Box from Robin's old house, they'd done a whirlwind tour of Plegia stopping by both highlights of the modern city and ancient landmarks from long-ago wars. He'd had more fun than he'd ever had in his life, but he was also ready to sleep for thirty hours straight.

Liz perched on the arm of the sofa, poking at him. "You wanna take a nap before dinner?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Chrom, rolling over and reaching into his bag. He unzipped it and pulled out a small parcel, tossing it at her. "This is for you." he said, closing his eyes.

Liz squealed. "Thank you!" she said, eagerly tearing it open. After a few minutes spent trying to undo the sticky tape (after which she gave in and went to the kitchen to fetch scissors), she managed to unwrap the present to reveal…

"Stop buying me new headbands and stuff—I told you, I like the buttons! They're cute!"

But Chrom was already asleep, snoring and oblivious to the world.

A few days passed. Chrom slept, did laundry, visited a few of his friends (and he did have friends other than Robin, despite what his sister said), and forgot about The Box. Until, that is, Robin called him one evening.

"Hello?" he said. "What's up—"

"I opened the box," she said.

Chrom marveled, for a second, at her marvelous sense of patience. If it had been him he would had torn open The Box less than five seconds after he'd gotten it. "Okay," he said, trying not to reveal how eager he was to know what was inside it. "What was inside?"

Robin paused. He could hear her rapid breathing over the phone. "Nothing much," she said, a strained, false casualness to her voice. "Just-just a book, some of his letters, a couple weird trading cards or—or something like that—" she laughed breathlessly, her voice growing shakier and shakier. "I don't even know why he kept all this stuff—no one in our family liked history but him and me. It's, it's really nothing, I don't know why I'm so—" and she was sobbing into the phone, gasping out breathless little sobs.

"Hey. Hey—" he said, trying not to panic and failing. "Robin, are you—" there was the sound of a dial tone as she hung up.

Chrom sprinted out his room, down the stairs and out the door, jumped into his car, and drove as fast as he could to Robin's apartment. The door was unlocked—unusually careless of her—and he barged inside. Robin was curled up on the couch, the wooden box open on the coffee table in front of her.

"Robin," he said, sitting carefully down next to her and resting a hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head—and she had been crying, the first time he'd seen her cry—and stared at him. "Did I forget to lock the door?" she said in a distant voice.

"Yeah," he said, pulling her into a hug. She sniffed and curled in upon herself.

Chrom glanced at the contents of the box, strewn over the surface of the table. She hadn't been lying—there was a dusty yellow book so old that most of the print had been worn away except for a vague shape on the cover that resembled a lightning bolt, a small stack of letters and research notes written in spidery script, two or three weird cards, and an old, faded, photograph. He leant over to take a look. The photograph showed a young girl in a hoodie with silver hair. Beside her was a sallow-skinned man with dark hair, resting his hand on her shoulder. Despite his stern appearance, he was smiling at the camera.

Robin and her father, then. They looked happy.

"I remember the last time I saw him," said Robin suddenly, her voice still hoarse from crying. "We argued. He—he didn't want me to move to Ylisstol, he wanted me to go into politics like him—I said no, we yelled—" she broke off. "There was other stuff too, but—I wish I'd—one last time—"

"I'm sorry," Chrom said.

"I—" Robin sucked in a huge gulp of air. "I miss him." she said, her voice quiet, defeated. "I really miss him." There was a long silence as the two of them sat there. Robin shivered occasionally as she tried to calm herself. Chrom stared out the window, wondering about death, and what came after, then looked back at the table when his thoughts grew too morbid.

An old book, some papers, a couple obscure trading cards (seriously, even Chrom hadn't known that they made trading cards of historic heroes), and a photograph. That was all that was left of Robin's father, besides memories.

"Thanks," said Robin suddenly, gently pulling herself away.

"Are you okay?" he said, and regretted it immediately. A stupid question. Of course she wasn't okay.

"No, but I think I'm a bit better." she glanced at him and smiled a painful and strange little smile. "Thank you. I'm glad you were here with me."

A/N: Recently, I went to visit the grave of a family relative. It had me thinking about death a lot.

I really like this chapter and it took me forever. Please tell me what you think!