Author: Heya. Sooo...I think that this updating-once-a-year for this story is going to be an...erm...common thing. Kind of like one of my other stories...which I feel bad about...ANYWAY. Here's more fanfic for your reading pleasure! :D Reviews are love, but so is your patronage!

Disclaimer: Oh, I so wish.

Silence surrounded him.

It wasn't just silence, it was the utter lack of sound.

Serge had heard this silence before, and his heart twisted in his chest as anxiety pooled in his stomach. He stepped forward and recoiled from himself, thoughts running frantically around in his head, proclaiming that what he was seeing was impossible, that he had been returned to himself, that FATE had been disposed of, and so consequently had Lynx.

Yet now he found himself in the body he had worn for...days? Weeks? Months? It had felt like eternity, and he had always been distantly aware that how he appeared wasn't who he was. It nearly drove him mad, being in another's body, but he had remained outwardly serene. Always, though...always he knew that it was wrong.

Now he was returned to his not-body and everything felt warped again.

A growl bubbled up in his throat and he raised his head, looking before him.

He was in the Dead Sea again. Not the Sea of Eden, but the Dead Sea.

It explained the lack of sound.

He continued forward and pushed aside the cobweb-y strands of time that tangled around him, that sought to keep him in the time-space he thought he had annihilated. His steps fell flat in the still gloom, the chill pressing in on him.

This time around, he wasn't even given the grace of company.

Then again, what he was doing and where he was couldn't be real—FATE had destroyed the Dead Sea and he had destroyed FATE. Two impossibilities did not make a possibility.

Well, that's what he thought anyway.

He walked steadily towards the Tower that loomed darkly in the distance, bypassing the myriad of phantasmic creatures that sought to sink their unreal claws into him and claim him for a forgotten future.

He reached the Tower faster than he had before, but he expected as much—this wasn't real, so things happened differently.

Time flowed differently.

He entered the main rotunda of the building and his heart briefly stopped in his chest.

Glenn.

The young dragoon was there, accompanying the Devas and the General, his face set in both determination and resignation.

Serge took a step towards him and, for the first time, the area around him reacted to his movement, his step making a loose piece of rock skitter away from him across the metal floor.

Glenn seemed to be the only one who heard, and turned around quickly, hand on his sword.

The two of them locked eyes and Glenn blinked. "Sir Lynx? What are you doing here?"

Serge looked down at himself again, at the furry, sharply-clawed hands, at the thick black fabric that covered his arms and sighed inwardly.

Serge was surprised to hear himself purr, "To check on your progress of course."

He had forgotten how smooth, deep, and resonant Lynx's voice had been. It was a seductive voice, that could wrap words so thoroughly around others' minds so that ideas that they thought were their own were simply his imposed on them.

Glenn hesitated, looking back at the General and the Devas, who had stopped.

"Lynx?" Karsh frowned, obviously attempting to control his dislike and intrigue.

"Like, what're you doin' here?" Marcy drawled, blue eyes narrowing to slits that would impress any feline.

Lynx's posture changed to one of amusement, he arching an eyebrow in incredulity. "Again—I have a...vested...interest in your success. I felt that it might require a..." his eyes slid to Glenn, "personal touch."

Glenn looked torn between being embarrassed, disgusted, and intrigued.

Serge was horrified with what he was saying. Was he saying it? Or was Lynx saying it?

Or, in the end, was it some kind of hybrid of them both? Was some part of him...still Lynx?

He moved silently, fluidly forward until he reached the group of dragoons, but his eyes were only on Glenn.

"If you continue to follow this path, you will meet your FATE. Do you still wish to continue?" he inquired, the question marginally meant for the entire group.

"To change this world, we must," the General said with solemn vehemency. "Follow if you wish, but don't stand in our way."

With that the General turned to continue, and Lynx smiled ever so faintly. "I wouldn't dream of trying to hinder your progress, General."

The Devas followed the General after a beat, but when Glenn moved to do so as well, Lnyx's hand was on Glenn's forearm, stopping his forward motion.

"I thought you said you wouldn't hinder our progress," Glenn said, glaring at him.

Lynx tilted his head slightly in amusement. "I said I wouldn't hinder the General's progress. Yours however...I made no such statement."

"I am under the General's command," Glenn replied uneasily, Lynx having slowly moved in closer to the young dragoon.

"Only as long as you desire it. I remember you telling me that if your morals and values came into conflict with your duty as a dragoon, you would follow what you felt was right. So, you're only loyal to the General as long as it suits your purpose."

A flash of disbelief washed through Serge—how could Lynx know that? Unless...he still carried a part of Lynx with him?

Glenn's eyes flashed in indignation. "I said no such thing to you, Lynx."

"But you did..." Lynx murmured, clawed fingers catching the trailing ends of Glenn's bandanna, making the dragoon try to wrench free of Lynx's grasp.

Lynx let the dragoon go, but his claws remained tangled in the bandanna, keeping Glenn from moving too far away.

"Tell me, Glenn," Lynx purred, eyes closing to pleased half-slits. "Where does your loyalty lie?"

"To the General!" the dragoon replied vehemently. "Now, let me—"

"Go? I meant it when I said that if you follow this path you will meet your FATE."

"My fate lies with the General—not with you."

Lynx sighed in wry amusement. "Perhaps not with me...but what about with Serge?"

Glenn blinked. "Who?"

"That's right. This you has never met him," Lynx murmured, tearing off a part of Glenn's bandanna with his claws. "Then I pose it this way—if you were ever to have to decide between following your precious General's orders or the well-being of your beloved, which would you choose?"

Glenn looked baffled and took a few more steps away to put space between himself and Lynx.

Serge felt equally confused by the statement—was he Glenn's beloved?

"I..." Glenn frowned. "Why ask me such a thing? Why am I still talking to you?"

Lynx's posture was relaxed, he leaning on the scythe that was his weapon of choice. "Because I intrigue you. And you don't really want to be here."

Glenn hesitated again before his face and frame fell into an expression of pure stubbornness. "It would depend on the situation. That is all I will tell you."

Lynx tilted his head to the side. "Are you sure you want to continue? This is the last time I'll ask. Do you want to go to meet your FATE?"

"My fate lies with my allegiance. As my allegiance is not to you, I follow the General."

"So if you had allegiance to someone else and it came into conflict with your allegiance to the General, who would you choose?"

Glenn looked confused, then frustrated. "This conversation is over. Right now, my loyalty is to the General. If, and this I doubt, my loyalty ever gets transferred to another, I will protect them and follow them." Glenn paused and looked over his shoulder. "I have fallen behind. Good day, Lynx."

"Goodbye, for now," Lynx said rather smugly, watching as Glenn ran off to catch up.

"Perhaps it is better that there is only one of you. I doubt I would know how to deal with that menage-e-trios."

Lynx's weight transferred back onto his feet and he slung the scythe over his shoulder.

The motion seemed to peel back something, leaving Serge behind as Lynx faded into the darkness. Serge blinked and looked at his hands, which were no longer clawed, at the bare, human skin where black cloth used to be. His head snapped up and he took off at a run, his feet once more disturbing nothing, making no sound. He rounded a corner and ran through Glenn, stopping mid-stride and nearly stumbling on himself as he turned quickly to face the dragoon.

The dragoon had stopped moving, his hand on his sword, looking around with wary sky-blue eyes.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

Serge answered that it was he, that Glenn had to turn back.

Serge had very vivid memories of how he had found Glenn—or what was left of Glenn—in the Dead Sea. He had a sinking feeling that no matter what he did, Glenn would continue anyway, for this was either a very realistic dream, or Serge was someone caught in a fleeting loop of the time just before Glenn met his fate.

Glenn frowned, he obviously hearing part of what Serge was saying, but not everything.

Eventually, the dragoon shook his head and continued forward. Serge reached out to grab the dragoon's arm, but his hands passed through it effortlessly.

Glenn stopped again, however, a shiver having gone through him. The dragoon looked about once more, then frowned at himself.

"This place is getting to you, Glenn," the dragoon muttered to himself before stepping forward with a purpose.

Serge reached out to touch him again, but this time the dragoon's steps hitched only slightly at the caress of Serge's ghostly hands.

Serge could do nothing by watch as the young man he cared for was killed, in a manner, his life being drained slowly away from him until only a echo remained, his body and soul being used to power FATE and the Frozen Flame.

Serge found himself powerless in the face of events that had already transpired, and it left a sour taste in his mouth, a bitterness at how Glenn had met his demise in such an ignoble fashion. Serge was torn between a thousand emotions—anger at FATE, confusion at when he was-was-not Lynx, and a deep sadness at Glenn's death.

Glenn was dead.

Was he?

No he wasn't.

Yes he was.

In his Home World yes, but in this one in the Other World...

Serge pressed his hand to his head, his mind tumbling in a thousand different directions, a deep sense of foreboding and anguish washing over him.

The world turned on itself in interesting ways, and Serge scrambled for a foothold before he came roughly back to himself, the transfer to waking almost violent.

His eyes cleared from the dream to focus on the very alive, very real dragoon that was leaned over him, the young man having been the force that had woken him.

Serge grabbed reflexively onto Glenn, one hand clinging to Glenn's forearm while another pressed against Glenn's shirt, wanting physical confirmation that the form above him had a beating heart, was still alive and well. That Glenn was real. That he hadn't expired in the Dead Sea, become nothing but a whisper in the time-stream.

Serge was a thought away from pressing his lips against Glenn's to make absolutely sure that the dragoon was real, but Glenn's voice and hand caressing Serge's face made Serge's breathing even out, moisture coming back to his mouth, heart-beat gradually slowing.

"Are you all right now?" Glenn murmured softly, his eyes only half-open in sleepiness.

Serge nodded slowly, the motion making Glenn's fingertips trail lightly down Serge's cheek.

"That was a bad nightmare," Glenn half-whispered, lying down once more, facing Serge.

Serge smiled wryly and replied equally quietly that it had been very unpleasant, his hand releasing Glenn's forearm to be pulled back to his own chest.

Glenn's lips twitched at the understatement. "You don't have to be afraid of anything," Glenn murmured. "I'll protect you. I promise."

To Serge's surprise, Glenn took his hands in his own and held them gently but firmly. "I promise."

Serge's lips twitched and he gave Glenn a soft smile, replying that he knew Glenn would. As long as he could protect Glenn.

Glenn chuckled slightly and curled around Serge's hands, thumb caressing one hand lightly. "Of course."

With that, Glenn's magnificent, clear blue eyes fluttered shut, and it was all Serge could do not to squirm at the happy butterflies that were rioting through him. Glenn's hands were warm and real, the dragoon was a solid, living presence beside Serge.

Serge was flattered by Glenn's promise to protect him, if only because he knew that it meant that the young man would do anything in his power to keep him safe. While that would be annoying at times, it was also...it meant so much in so many different ways.

Serge closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep, his dreams much more pleasant.

–

As Serge woke the next morning, he half-expected Glenn to have withdrawn his hand and to be regarding him with some sort of negative emotion.

While he did find Glenn no longer holding his hand, Serge could catch a thoughtful look on the dragoon's face, as he was lying on his back and looking at the ceiling, his hands lightly clasped across his torso.

Serge grumbled an inquiry to the time.

Glenn started, but relaxed when he registered who had spoken and what had been asked. "A half-hour before sunrise," Glenn answered, sitting up, blankets pooling around his waist. "Your people were very kind to give us shelter for the night."

Serge waved the comment away with an 'of course' gesture. He sat up himself and stretched, back cracking in interesting ways, making him wince. After his bones had resettled, he looked at Glenn and asked as to where they were to head next.

Glenn grew thoughtful and drew patterns on the blanket that had been given him, drawing Serge's gaze, which was quickly transferred elsewhere.

"I guess we continue up the coast, yes? We were planning on going back to Termina."

Serge nodded in agreement. They had spoken of Termina. After all, they had been away for quite some time.

Glenn frowned and cocked his head to the side. "How long have we been away for?"

Serge shrugged. It didn't matter to him.

Glenn's lips twitched in a small smile. "Mm. Well, we still have to check in on the villages along the area before Termina. That might take some time, so we should head off as soon as we can."

Serge nodded and pushed himself to his feet, catching the blanket as it fell off him. He folded it nearly and placed it in a corner, picking up his armor and weaponry once the more domestic matters were taken care of. He placed the black plate over his skin-tight undershirt, a denadoriate chain vest falling over the plate. Yes, the combination was heavy, but it provided protection against both magical and physical attacks. He pulled on his pants and shoved his feet into his shoes, the harness for his swallow the last thing to be put on. He turned to say something to Glenn when he saw the young man's bandanna lying on the floor and chuckled softly to himself. He picked the piece of cloth up off the floor and offered it to the dragoon, who took it with a smile. He tied it tightly onto his head, obviously feeling fully clothed now that he had his head-gear.

Serge waited for Glenn to finish strapping on the Holy Swords before he gestured with his swallow to the door, indicating Glenn go before him.

A small, amused smirk flitted across the dragoon's face before he proceeded out, Serge a step behind.

The early morning was cool, a slight breeze off of the ocean fluttering the cloths that covered windows for the night. A number of fishermen were readying their boats to head out to sea and put in another long day, working for their livelihoods and sustenance. Serge waved farewell to a few of them, and they waved casually back before returning their attention to the task at hand.

In a way, it was nostalgic, leaving the village during its waking hours, as he remembered being a part of such activities for so long.

Still, they had things to attend to, and he had a different path to walk.

A path that, he hoped, would remain firmly entwined with the dragoon who walked beside him.

Glenn gave Serge a fleeting smile when he caught Serge regarding him. "At least we've had one success."

Serge nodded slowly and his eyes turned to the path before them. One success out of many, he hoped.

"Agreed," Glenn murmured softly.

The morning was still quite quiet, even the diurnal monsters taking their time at rousing, leaving Serge and Glenn unmolested for the time being. The two warriors quickly turned off the beaten path, heading into more dangerous territory to get to the villages that lay along the coast. The terrain was rocky and unforgiving due to being so close to Fossil Valley (which still had the power to twist Serge's stomach into angry knots), and the shoreline wasn't much kinder, but people were capable of living in the harshest of conditions. As they had helped the people of the more fertile sweep of coastline, so would they also aid those in not-so-pleasant areas.

The villages they passed were much more fortified, the people a hardier breed than those living along the fertile coastline.

Glenn and Serge ended up staying in one of the villages, the uneven terrain possibly fatal in the night. Serge let Glenn do the talking, as a dragoon would command more respect than a wandering warrior, he falling a few steps behind him, unconscious of how protective his stance was—although he did catch a number of the villagers gave him wary, yet amused, glances.

He took in the surroundings as Glenn negotiated a place to stay, wanting to get a feel for the area—just in case.

The village was built differently than Arni. Arni was all grass-latched roofs, the buildings light and airy, letting in the salty air and warm sunlight during the day while providing a safe place from the cold during the night (not as if it was ever truly cold in Arni), and most of the rains they received-where they were, however, was a much more stone-based breed. While there were, indeed, grasses and plants, the building materials were mostly stone carved from the nearby cliffs, seeming darker, but more sturdy to Serge. Those abodes would be able to weather the harshest of conditions, as would be necessary, perched precariously as they were.

Serge was startled out of his observations by Glenn's hand resting gently on his shoulder.

"We have a place to stay for the night," Glenn told him softly. "I'll tell you the rest once we're inside."

Serge's eyebrows raised very slowly, but he lead himself to be lead away into the surprisingly welcoming room that Glenn had secured.

Serge placed his small pack of belongings on the ground next to a small cot and looked at Glenn, unable to hide his curiosity. He inquired into what Glenn had to be so hush-hush about, which provoked a grim smile from Glenn.

"Porre has been sighted a number of times, and have tried to make a landings—however, these people are quite resilient; they've pushed the Porres back every time. However, the other news they gave me is...unpleasant. It appears that Termina has been under siege—and quite possibly have fallen."

Serge's eyebrows snapped up to his hairline.

"That's what my reaction was, too," Glenn murmured wryly. "We'll have to proceed more carefully from here on."

Serge nodded slowly as a pensive look formed on his face. How could they find out more about Termina? How the dragoons were doing, how the people were, what the status of the manor was?

Glenn sat down on the cot given to him, across from Serge, his fingers twined in each other as he fell deeply into thought.

"We will not separate again," Glenn said firmly.

Serge agreed entirely.

Serge watched as an idea formed within Glenn, and was trying to guess what it was before he spoke:

"Do you think anyone will recognize you?"

Serge frowned and inquired as to why Glenn asked.

"Because, if the Porre have indeed triumphed, they are probably looking to round up any surviving dragoons, just to be complete about it. You could bring me in as a fugitive. I'm sure there's some sort of bounty on dragoons—there might even be one especially for me, since I am known as Dario's brother, and so am probably dangerous."

Serge didn't miss the brief inflection of bitterness in Glenn's voice over how he wasn't known for being a warrior in his own right, but instead one associated with someone else, somehow sub-par, implying he might be a problem, but wasn't worth worrying unduly over.

Serge found he had reached out and placed a hand on Glenn's forearm, offering what comfort he could. He had never had any siblings, and he had never had any expectations placed on him.

Glenn seemed a little surprised at the gesture from Serge, who quickly pulled away, uncertain if he had crossed some boundary.

There was a brief, awkward silence before Glenn cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway. You bringing me in would probably endear you to some of the soldiers."

But eventually Glenn would be taken away and they would be separated again.

Glenn sighed and tugged on his bandanna in a nervous gesture.

Serge distantly recalled from his dream tangling his hands in the fabric, in pulling Glenn close to him—

Serge quickly shoved his thoughts in a different direction.

"It won't do any good for both of us to be captured," Glenn murmured. "Considering how well that worked last time."

Serge scowled at the floor.

Glenn rubbed his eyes gently, a sigh escaping his lips. "We have to get in somehow."

Serge offered that maybe they should check on the Manor first, then.

"But we're right next to Termina," Glenn protested. "It would be...unwise of us to waste the opportunity."

Serge busied his hands by taking off his gloves, using the mundane motion as an attempt to get himself thinking.

"Maybe we should sleep on it," Glenn muttered eventually. "Perhaps an idea will come to us during the night."

Serge smiled faintly and nodded. Sleep sounded good, if only because he was physically weary from the uneven and unforgiving terrain.

Feeling slightly uneasy, Serge kept on a little of her armor as he readied for bed, his swallow within immediate reach. He settled himself on the cot given him, and noticed that Glenn had also kept some armor on as well.

Glenn gave Serge a small, knowing smile that made Serge's heart skip a beat. The young man wondered if Glenn had any idea how he looked when he gave Serge that tiny, affectionate smile, at how much it made Serge's heart hurt and his body crave contact.

Serge also decided that it didn't matter if he did or not—he would take Glenn as he could.

Serge wished the dragoon a good night, which was replied in a soft murmur.

–

Serge found himself quickly and painfully awake, his hand immediately on his swallow. A quick look at the other cot revealed that Glenn was equally alert, his body tensed to move at the slightest intrusion.

"They're here," they heard a voice whisper quietly. "Now leave us alone."

"Hold your tongue, man," Serge heard a voice heavily accented with Porre, which made both Serge and Glenn stare at each other.

It seemed as if they'd have to make a very quick exit, and without being fully armed.

"I will let you in only if you hold to your promise," both heard the El Nido native snarl.

Both Glenn and Serge moved silently off their cots, collecting and equipping Elements. If they couldn't have armor, they would at least have some means of defending themselves. Perhaps even long enough for them to get in their armor. Some of the blue elements had interesting side-effects.

As Serge managed to get the Black plate on the door to their room was yanked open and Serge immediately hit the Porre soldier with an Ice Blast, causing him and Glenn to shiver violently at the sudden lack of heat. He and Glenn hurriedly pulled on what armor they could as the ice slowly melted.

They weren't entirely dressed, but enough that the first round of fire from the Porre guns pinged off of plate armor.

Glenn moved first, spearing the Porre soldier with one of the Holy Swords and using the man as a human shield long enough for them to make their way out of the small entryway, Glenn flinging the dead man contemptuously at the small group of soldiers who were waiting outside for them, startling them enough that Serge had time to get out as well, ducking low, cutting off a soldier at the legs, the man losing his balance as he was suddenly reduced to stumps, his gun falling loose from his grasp.

Serge kicked the weapon away and was aware of Glenn disarming—literally—two of the other soldiers.

Glenn and he had achieved enough of a space that Serge was able to set down another ice blast to keep the unharmed soldiers from following them too quickly as he followed Glenn as he moved swiftly in the pre-dawn murk. The footing was dangerous and the nocturnal monsters had yet to return to their burrows, but Glenn and Serge had adrenaline enough that it kept them moving.

It was only once the two of them had found an effective hiding spot that they allowed themselves to relax slightly. Serge was surprised to hear Glenn curse, but when he looked over, he saw that the dragoon was bleeding badly from a wound on his thigh, which wasn't armored as heavily as the rest of him. Glenn was fumbling at healing himself with a Heal, but it wasn't enough to completely close up the wound—and he didn't have enough for a Heal Plus.

Serge checked his own energy levels and grimaced. He tossed a Recover All on them both, and it while it was enough to cause the wound to stop bleeding, it still wasn't entirely closed. Serge took a few bandages out of the pack he had managed to keep with him and told Glenn to strip from his pants.

The dragoon looked briefly embarrassed, but got over his initial hesitance and did as told. Serge carefully wound the cloth around the wound, taking care to cover all of it and keep it as tight as possible without stopping blood flow to the rest of his leg. It wasn't deep enough to warrant that.

"Are you alright, Serge?" Glenn asked, concern in his voice.
Serge smiled faintly and murmured that aside from having some blood in his hair, he was alright.

Serge watched Glenn's gaze became pained at the reminder of the loss of life they had probably caused in their escape, and the dragoon closed as his eyes as his head rested on the rock behind him.

"Well, it seems that we're both recognizable," Glenn said with a sigh. "There goes that plan."

Serge smiled ruefully.

Glenn was silent for a moment before a frustrated, almost guilty, look flashed over his face that told Serge he was somehow blaming himself for something.

So, taking a chance, Serge reached out and took a hand that had been curled into a painful looking fist and forced the fingers to relax. Serge told Glenn that what those people had done was part of human nature—as Glenn had told him, they had been attacked by Porre a number of times, so any way that they could get the military nation to back off they would take.

"The perhaps—"

Serge shook his head and asserted that even if they did turn themselves in, it wouldn't stop the attacks. All that would occur would that the villagers wouldn't have people to defend them.

Glenn grimaced and glared accusingly at the stone they were hiding behind, as if it were the source of their problems.

Serge was relieved when Glenn's hand slowly relaxed completely in his own. "Even though I have the Holy Swords, I'm still powerless," Glenn spat, bitterness thick in his voice.

Serge frowned. They had helped Arni save themselves. They had given other villages hope as they helped fend off attacks that would have razed them, offering them strength and confidence in their own prowess. How was that being powerless?

Glenn shook his head violently, and his fingers twined in Serge's, the grip possessive and terrified. "I will never be powerless like when you and I were forced apart. Maybe some of the dragoons escaped, perhaps even one of the Devas. We can search them out—there are enough places to hide in El Nido that the Porre will never think to look. Even if no-one else has set up some sort of resistance, we will."

Serge found himself smiling inwardly at Glenn's resolution and purpose. It was one of those qualities that made Serge want to purr and do the very un-masculine thing of curling up against Glenn and wrapping his arms around him, keeping himself close to that undeniable, solid strength that was the dragoon.

He found that he had unconsciously leaned in a little, and caught himself quickly enough to pull back.

Glenn seemed to not have noticed, lost in deep thought, his lips forming silent words as he planned the situation out in his head.

Serge sat back on his heels and decided that he'd let Glenn work out his scheme in peace while he kept them safe by tracking what was going on in their surroundings.

Eventually, Glenn's muttering slowed, then stopped, prompting Serge to look back. The young man had fallen asleep, the wound obviously tiring him—then again, he had run quite a distance on a wounded limb. Serge wasn't sure he would have been able to do it.

Serge leaned in and checked the bandage he had secured to Glenn's leg before casting a small Cure on it, feeling the pull at his energy resources that told him he had nothing left to use. Serge sighed and reluctantly untangled their fingers before he moved to a crouch, peering around the rock that allowed himself to see while it blocked he and Glenn from sight.

There was nothing but monsters that wandered the terrain, but Serge refused to let himself the luxury of relaxing. He needed to keep Glenn safe.

Serge tried to keep himself focused, but his mind kept on drifting back to the young man resting behind him. Glenn seemed to be...not quite adverse to his touches. Sure, before they had been little, fleeting things—grabbing Glenn by the arm to keep him from falling, an encouraging hand on his shoulder, helping each other heal with Ointments and Braces and other consumables. To Serge, the contact sent tiny shivers of warmth through him, the feeling of Glenn's fingers lingering long after the touch was gone. But now, he seemed to be allowed to do other things, offer tactile comfort to the dragoon himself, and Serge knew he would never forget the feel of Glenn's hands around his.

Progress perhaps? Maybe there was a return of feelings?

Again, in the end it didn't matter—just traveling with the young man was enough.

Still...

Serge forcibly returned his attention to their surroundings, keeping one eye on Glenn at all times, just to be certain that he was doing alright.

The sun was high in the sky when Glenn stirred again, causing Serge to quickly abandon his post and take up a spot next to Glenn.

He murmured a soft inquiry into whether or not Glenn was feeling better.

The dragoon looked at him with sleep-hazed eyes that slowly cleared, focused always on Serge's eyes, stealing the warrior's breath away. Eventually, Glenn nodded.

"I'm doing better. What time is it?"

Serge guessed that it was noon-ish, which made Glenn frown.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to..."

Serge shook his head, cutting off Glenn, telling the dragoon that if they had kept on moving while Glenn was hurt, they wouldn't be able to help the people that they needed to help.

"As it is, it might not be safe for us to stay at the villages any more. We should double back, or go into the interior of the island. They're probably expecting us to keep our path towards Termina."

Serge nodded slowly, then sighed. Perhaps they should look into the rumors of activity in the Hydra Marshes. Before they had needed to secure the villages—but with the Porre onto them, their presence might be more of a threat than a benefit.

Glenn let out a long, annoyed breath. "To the Hydra Marshes it is, then."

Glenn stood slowly and Serge offered him his pants, which Glenn took and pulled on, securing them tightly, looking at the break in the links where he had been wounded.

"I'll need to take these to get fixed, soon," Glenn muttered, and Serge nodded slightly. They both needed to have their equipment looked at.

"Well, we don't have time to waste. Perhaps we'll come across a dragoon or a Deva as we go. The rumors of activity might herald bad things—the sooner we investigate the better."

Serge nodded and turned, taking the lead, wanting to make sure that any monsters got to him first while Glenn was still recovering.