Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It wasn't an enjoyable process, coming back to life.

The sheer onslaught of sensations left N shaking and gasping for breath, staring at the sky which so resembled that of Aionios. There were voices, shouting, but the ringing in his ears drowned them out. The breath moving in and out of his throat burned, the ground rubbing against his bare skin chafed him raw with every motion, his own hair falling into his face, the sunlight too scathing, it was too much, too much—

And then Noah knelt next to him, saying something. Maybe shouting as well. He couldn't tell; everything was too loud and too quiet simultaneously. The words themselves were mere noise, echoing unintelligibly in his ears. Noah's face looked blinding in the sunlight, the reflections on his hair almost painful to look at, yet didn't it seem as if he looked the exact same as when N had bid him farewell?

Noah laid his hands on his shoulders. The sensation—the warmth, the light pressure, the feeling of skin on skin—was intense to the point of being painful, but it was something he could focus on. He squeezed his eyes shut, his own breaths still unnaturally loud in his ears. The touch. The touch was the only thing that mattered right now.

Little by little, the turmoil settled down. The shaking of his limbs subsided. The onslaught on his senses lessened until he could open his eyes again without drowning in the light of the day, painful though it still was. He wanted to shield his face, but his limbs didn't cooperate.

"N," Noah said. "N, can you hear me?" The words were more recognisable, now that the ringing in his ears had died down a little.

"Why—Why am I still here?" Was it his own voice he heard? It sounded too distant to be his.

He recalled facing what had remained of Z to extinguish it forever, and his own essence dissipating, and the final moment in which M had touched his ghostly hand one last time. Beyond that, nothing—nothing, that was, until waking up here. With Noah. With, he belatedly noticed, a throng of people standing around them.

Had they failed? If he was still here, then Z—

"It's alright," Noah said. "Everything is alright. Deep breaths, N."

N sucked in a shaky, painful breath, then a second and a third. It didn't feel like it should curb his heart hammering in his chest and the panic rising in his throat like bile, but Noah... Noah, who had held his hand out to him, said it was alright. It was that which allowed him to settle in his skin enough to quiet down the turmoil.

Just barely.

"How do you feel?" Noah asked. "Are you hurt?"

He had no answer to that. He didn't even know what this body was. His previous body had vanished after merging with Noah, and hadn't returned when he'd split off. With the onslaught of sensory information, he couldn't tell if he was in pain or not either, whether he was injured or if his nerves screamed at him out of overstimulation. Still, he feebly shook his head. The muscles in his neck complained at the motion. He'd never felt so stiff before. Even back in the life he'd gotten run over by a Levnis—half his bones had shattered then, but he'd been able to move the rest, at least...

"Good. That's good. Do you think you can sit up?"

Could he? He flexed a hand, pushing it against the ground, trying to heave himself up. He only made it halfway up before it gave way under him and he fell back down, knocking his head against the hard ground. It hurt, but in the grand scheme of thing still barely registered. Was this concrete he'd dropped down on? Rock? Something like that... something harsh. Solid.

Noah fussed over him. He grit his teeth, slowly moved both hands into position and slowly, labouriously, forced this ridiculous new body to cooperate. His face burned by the time he'd pushed himself up to sit, though whether it was from the exertion or from the embarrassment of struggling with sitting up in front of an audience he didn't know. Noah silently slipped his red jacket over his shoulders. It was warm. Comforting.

"Why am I here?" he repeated. His voice all but failed him, winded as he was. "What happened?"

"That is a good question," Queen Melia said as she knelt down next to him. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Despite himself, N jumped. He'd paid too little attention to the crowd to see her previously, but of course she was here too. Nothing else would have made sense. Yet, to meet her face to face as himself, not as a part of Noah, was startling. Noah grasped his shoulders again—whether to keep him in place or to reassure him, N couldn't say. He sucked in another deep breath and said, voice raspy, "I—we—reached Z, and..."

How could he describe the sensation? Raw emotion—the despair that Z embodied and the newfound hope that he and M carried—had mingled, and in the end the wish born from that hope had won out. Then the disintegration. It hadn't hurt, per se, not at all like the countless deaths he still recalled with vivid clarity. But the melancholy, the knowledge that this was where their long road would finally come to an end, perhaps that had been worse than pain. Knowing he would breathe his last at M's side had been comforting in its own way, but—

He sat up straight. "M," he said. "Where is she?"

"The worlds have separated," Melia said. "If she reappeared as well, she is in Alrest now. As are the others whose roots lie in that world."

Then they had accomplished that much, after all. N exhaled slowly and let his shoulders sag again. How draining it was, to force his sore muscles to hold him upright... "But why am I here, then?" he asked a third time. "Why are you all? I thought Origin was meant to restore the worlds as they had been."

"Again, a very good question." Melia sighed softly, the look on her face unreadable. "I presume that Z's interference must have altered its functionality. Rather than restoring the people from before the Intersection, it instead restored those who resided in Aionios at the time of separation. My best guess is that Z's connection to Origin somehow led to the two of you being recorded along with the rest of us, and that is how you came to be here now."

In the silence that followed her pronouncement, N heard one of the onlookers mutter, "Isn't that a sparking Consul?"

It was the only catalyst needed. A second person repeated it. A third said under her breath, "Why's he get to be here when the others from my colony don't?" A fourth stepped forwards, and then the crowd surged, anger rippling between them as they called for his head. N drew back, but where could he have fled? He didn't even have the strength to get to his feet.

As it was, they didn't have the guts to muscle past their queen, and when she drew up to full height and said, not loudly but with a resoluteness N had seldom heard in his long life, "Stop this nonsense," they quieted down to a man in no time.

Noah's hands, clamped tightly on his shoulders now, relaxed only when the shouting had stopped completely.

"We will not begin this new era with bloodshed," Melia continued. "I will not ask you to forgive him, but we mustn't lose ourselves to our rage. Please, stand down."

"But Your Majesty," a faceless person in the crowd protested. "After everything he's done surely he deserves—"

She didn't finish her sentence, but N knew exactly what she'd wanted to say.

"Who's to say he won't backstab us?"

"Yeah! We can't trust a Consul!"

"I'll vouch for him," Noah said. He didn't stand up. He continued to hold on to N, facing the angry crowd kneeling. "He won't go astray again. I guarantee it."

How can you, N wanted to ask. What makes you so sure?

He didn't, in the end. Not even when Noah made more impassioned pleas for the people to have faith in him, or when Eunie and Lanz, neither of them looking at N, pushed through the crowd and vouched for Noah in return. Listening to the discussion was difficult. His attention drifted in a sea of exhaustion, the words washing over him like waves on the shore.

In the end, Melia shut down the debate. "We have more important things to worry about," she said in a tone that suffered no talking back. "Assessing our resources and ensuring everyone is well cared for is our highest priority right now, not indulging in revenge. Can I count on you all to help?"

It took some more fast-talking, but in the end some of the old colony commanders took to herding the people towards Keves Castle towering in the distance—a place Melia claimed could shelter them all for the time being, until they found a better way to assign living spaces. Noah was among them, and thus by necessity was N.

By now, the overwhelming onrush of sensations had lessened. It was the only reason he could walk barefoot on the uneven ground, with little bits of gravel poking his soles and scraping his skin. If the intensity had continued unabated, he would never have made it more than a few steps. Even now, it was so much more painful than it should have been.

Even that paled in comparison to the cold settling in his bones. He could scarcely pay attention to the brick houses they passed by, foreign in the clean cosiness. These quaint little gardens, these colourful decoration in the windows—it was too much to take in, so he didn't. It wasn't just him, either. Plenty of others walking around him kept their eyes trained on the road.

He wasn't the only one who felt uncomfortable—but it seemed he was the only one making them uncomfortable. Some caught him looking, and glared at him in response. More than those few, in all likelihood, but he found himself too weary to notice, or care.

This city was much bigger than the installation that had surrounded Keves Castle in Aionios. The castle in the distance had barely come any closer by the time N's legs started to wobble. As much as he tried to keep up, it wasn't long after that he fell behind Noah, breath growing ragged. He tried to catch up, and found that he couldn't. It was as if lead weighed down his limbs.

Noah noticed, of course. He interrupted his conversation with whoever he'd been talking to and hurried to his side.

"I'm fine," N said preemptively. He'd been Noah in those brief moments before they'd separated again. He knew how he thought, what he would ask.

"No, you're not. Be honest. Can you keep walking?"

N grit his teeth. Stepped forward. Nearly stumbled, not meeting Noah's eyes.

"N," Noah said. "Don't be stupid." Before N could stop him, Noah knelt, back facing towards him, and said over his shoulder, "Hop on. I'll carry you."

"To spark with—" N sighed. "If you insist."

He wasn't the only one who had to be carried, he told himself as he clung to Noah's back, arms wrapped around him, Noah's fingers digging into the bare skin of his legs. There were others who were ill or injured, that was part of why it had taken so long to get moving. Still. This wasn't how things were supposed to be, having to be carried... having to be helped.

Yet, Noah was warm against his chest, and as the exhaustion settled deeper into his bones, the swaying of Noah's gait softly lulled him into sleep against his will.

N slipped off of Noah's back the moment he let go of his legs; right into Lanz' hands, who settled him on the brightly tiled palace floor. He didn't wake up.

Given the circumstances maybe carrying him on his back hadn't been the best idea, Noah thought, but improvising enough stretchers for those who couldn't be carried safely otherwise had been difficult enough on the fly. It'd be fine, surely. He hadn't looked injured.

Queen Melia stood at the other end of the corridor, directing efforts to get everyone settled in. Her voice carried despite the corridor's spacious proportions; when he looked up, he saw her pointing down a side corridor before turning away to help someone else. Even so, too many still lingered, unsure where to go, what to do.

He took a step forward. Stood still again. Looked behind himself. N had stirred, moving his arm, but not yet awoken.

"You want me to look him over?" Eunie said. She didn't wait for a response before kneeling next to N and taking his pulse.

"Thank you," Noah said.

"Don't mention it. Who knows if his body works like ours now, anyway." Eunie pulled her hand away. "Pulse is normal. So's breathing. Did anyone find blankets yet? He's feeling a bit cold."

Blankets. He could do that. For the second time he made to leave, then hesitated again. N hadn't stirred again after Eunie had let go of him. There were things to do, more than they had hands for, and yet...

"I'll go find blankets," Lanz said. "You stick around and coordinate things here."

Noah shot him a grateful glance as he walked past. It was silly to want to stay here, he knew that. Eunie would have kept an eye on N in his stead. Still—still, it was better this way.

He surveyed the corridor—so different from the Keves Castle he knew. The Keves Castle of Aionios had been dark, fully lacking windows and lined with pitch-black steel, making the already cramped spaces feel even more claustrophobic. Here, though... This castle was gold and red and bright, the overhead windows letting in the afternoon sun. Some gathered in the sunlight, napping or speaking to their neighbours; they'd escaped the late winter cold into the warm indoors, but they'd all been dressed for Aionios' summer and the chill didn't go away that quickly.

Melia had sent off those who were ill or injured in earnest to rest in the palace infirmary already, leaving only those who didn't need immediate attention waiting to be settled in. Even so, there were too many people in too small a space, but what were they supposed to do? Out of everyone here, only Melia had ever set foot into this world. None of them knew where to go, or where to stay.

It was no surprise that many of them looked forlorn; hanging heads and slumped shoulders abounded. Back then, it had seemed like taking the final step would make everything easier—and it had, Noah thought as he looked at the back of his hand, unmarred by the fading term mark. But that was hard to see when tired, hungry and disoriented.

So take care of the tired and hungry first. The rest would come on their own. They had time now, after all.

When Kite and others from Colony 9 brought tiny loaves of bread from the palace larders, Noah took them off their hands and distributed them among the people, keeping two to share with N later. Lanz returned with a pile of blankets shortly after.

Noah didn't rush off to bring one to N immediately. But he did go through the corridor in that direction first.

N had turned over on his side and curled in on himself in the meantime. He still wore Noah's jacket, but that would only do so much to keep warm. They'd have to find him some clothes, Noah thought as he carefully spread the blanket over him. The red jacket suited him well, but he'd need more than that to go around. Then again, didn't they all? All they had now was that which they'd had with them at the time of the Separation. So much to do, even now...

He settled down against the wall next to N, leaning his head back, then sighed. Just a moment of rest, to soothe his headache. Maybe eating something would help. It had been a few hours, after all. He ripped a chunk off one loaf, popped it into his mouth—and froze.

It was sweet.

Not all of the bread that had reached the colonies with the rest of the castle rations had been old; with a bit of luck, one could nab a freshly baked batch. It had been easier to get fresh bread in the City, where they baked it themselves. None of it had ever come close to this, though. It melted in his mouth and left behind a lingering sweetness. Who'd ever heard of sweet bread?

"Is it not good?" Eunie asked, plopping down next to him and eyeing her own bread warily.

"No, it's great. It's just not what we're used to. How is everyone?"

"Doing fine, at least over here," Eunie said before taking a bite. "Wow, why is it sweet? That's weird."

Noah looked down at the remaining bread half in his hands. Different food. Different castle. Different world. "I suppose things just don't work the same here."

They sat in silence for a while after that. Lanz joined them soon after. It was almost like the old times: Sitting together after duty was done, savouring the time of peace before it was time to go back to fighting. Only now the peace would last.

"Aren't you going to eat the other one?" Lanz asked after stuffing the last bit of bread in his mouth.

"It's for him." Noah gestured at N, still soundly asleep. "For when he wakes up."

Another few moments of silence as Eunie finished her own bread, then, haltingly, she said: "Hey, so... what was it like? When you two merged?"

They hadn't asked, back then. There'd been more important things to do, and Noah hadn't wanted to broach the subject—the Noah they'd become hadn't, at any rate. Looking back, Noah—the one he was now—would have told them, he thought. It must have been N's influence.

"I'm not sure I can describe it," he said. "We weren't... It wasn't like the two of us sharing a body. We... overlapped, I suppose. The cumulation of both of our lives." But even that didn't fully grasp the truth. They'd been Noah, both sides reunited.

Maybe if they'd stayed that way, he wouldn't feel so lost now.

"Sorry," he continued. "I guess it was weird for you too, at the time."

"Would have been less weird if it'd been weirder, if you catch my drift" Lanz said. "If it was both of you, shouldn't you two have been a bit more like him?"

More like N. What a thorny question. There were many things Noah could have said in response; but in the end, Lanz and Eunie, and everyone else for that matter, were entitled to feel however they wanted about N.

There was one thing he wanted to say, though, and he opened his mouth and then N stirred again and raised his head, blinking slowly, and the words fled his mind. "Did we wake you?" he asked instead. "How do you feel?"

"'s alright... I slept long enough." N sat up, gathered the blanket around himself and looked around, dishevelled hair hugging his shoulders. "Are we in the palace?"

Noah nodded. "We couldn't find room for everyone yet." As a matter of fact, he should probably follow up on that, get more of the people off the corridor, but now that N had woken up...

N finished rubbing his eyes, then craned his head and looked down the corridor. "I doubt the palace will be able to house everyone in the guest rooms," he said. "Unless... unless it's bigger than Keves Castle."

"Didn't look like it is," Eunie chimed in.

"I see." N didn't look at her before adding, "Thank you."

All four of them went quiet after that, though the ambient noise of conversations all throughout the hallway filled the silence. It was odd, Noah thought. Talking to N should have been easy. They'd been one person for a time; he understood N, on a fundamental level not even the Interlink had matched. Yet, now that they sat here, he no longer knew what to say to him.

Really, he shouldn't be sitting idle anyway. He was well, better than many who'd come out of the Separation with the same injuries and illnesses they'd had before. There was no excuse for not helping. N seemed alright—he didn't need to be watched over now.

"I'll see if I can help with anything," he said, pushing himself up. Distributing food or helping people settle down or—anything really. "N, I saved some bread for you—"

"I'm coming with," N said before hauling himself to his bare feet. He kept the blanket wrapped around him.

"Let's get you some clothes first, then," Noah said. N didn't argue, so he handed him the bread to eat on the go and off they went, together.

Unlike him, N didn't seem surprised that the bread was sweet.

The palace laundry was massive. Noah stopped in the doorway, taking it all in. Laundry machines lined the wall, more than he'd ever seen in one place; the Colony 9 Ferronis had had some for their uniforms and of course the City had used them as well, but they'd had personal laundries there. Nothing like this.

N, apparently wholly unperturbed, walked past him and made for a door next to the cupboards lining another wall. Right. The blanket barely extended past the middle of his toned thighs and he was barefoot; he wouldn't want to stand around. At least he walked steadier now. The rest seemed to have done him well.

Noah caught up with him just as he opened the door. Behind it, rows upon rows of pristine uniforms were lined on the racks. "So it's the same," N said.

"Huh?"

"This was a uniform storage in Keves Castle as well. In fact, this entire laundry room was in the castle. I recognised it the moment we came in."

"Do you remember when the castle was created?" Noah asked.

N shook his head. "It was already there in my earliest memories. Z must have made it."

"I see," Noah said, and then neither of them spoke anymore, nor did they enter the room proper. Nobody was using these clothes now, and they had to make do with the resources at hand; it would be a waste to leave them here. And yet...

N was the first to move, after murmuring something rude. He ripped a uniform off the rack, let the blanket drop to the ground and placed Noah's jacket on top, then shrugged on the borrowed clothing.

It didn't look flattering on him.

Meant for a larger person, the uniform hung awkwardly, bagging where it shouldn't, the sleeves extending too far down his hands, the trousers looking about ready to slip off his hips. Still, even in ill-fitting clothing, he stood more confidently.

"Better?" Noah asked as he retrieved his jacket, and immediately felt stupid for asking.

"Feeling less like a beggar, at any rate." N glanced at him. "So... you'll go see who needs help now?"

"You don't have to come along."

"I have no intention of sitting idle," N said, and Noah believed it; N always drowned his emotions in work.

It was with that in mind that he put a hand on N's shoulder and asked, "Are you doing alright? Be honest."

N gave him a wry look. "Should I feel insulted by the insinuation?" Then, before Noah could get a word in, he sighed and shook his head. The carefully constructed mask slipped; Noah could pinpoint the exact moment by the way his shoulders slumped and his brow creased. "To tell the truth, I don't know. It's... a lot."

"I figure it's worse for you, since you weren't... weren't prepared for it." Noah squeezed his shoulder. "If you need to talk about it, come to me, okay?"

"I like to think I learned my lesson on that." Then, abruptly: "But we should go back and see what we can do for now."

Not ready to talk just yet, then. At least Noah wasn't the only one who hadn't yet figured out how to put things into words. "Let's go then," he said, and they went side by side.

A hubbub greeted them when they entered the main corridor again. After inching through the crowd, the source of the commotion turned out to be Melia standing on a chair. As if she'd been waiting for them to return, she started speaking the moment Noah laid her eyes on her.

"I regret," she started, "that I must add even more to your burden, but at present, I see no other way."

The crowd went silent. No small number of them exchanged uneasy looks.

"There is a power plant out on Eryth Sea—the area you have known as Erythia Sea—that powers this city and all its appliances. It is a complex piece of machinery and, regrettably, not safe to keep running without appropriate supervision." Melia paused. "Unfortunately, shutting it down for safety will also entail shutting off the palace's heating system."

And winter was still only beginning to recede.

But they could do something about the situation right here and now. He pushed through to the front and stood next to Melia. "Then we need to ensure everyone has a place to stay," he said, loudly enough to be heard over the people talking among each other. "We need to clear out storage rooms, offices, anywhere we can house a few people. Bundle enough into one room that they can keep it warm. Melia, is there anywhere we can get mattresses and more blankets from?"

"There are stores in the city," Melia said.

"Then we need to organise groups to fetch them," Noah said; and then everything happened much faster than he'd anticipated. By the time he realised he'd lost sight of N, he was already out on Melfica Road, as Melia had called it.

It'd be fine, he thought as he hefted a mattress together with Lanz. N didn't need to be fussed over; he'd probably tell him off if he tried, anyway. Still, when they returned to the palace with mattresses and blankets in tow, N was nowhere to be found. He didn't show up when they divided the atrium and then the throne room into makeshift compartments using salvaged curtains, nor when people started settling in. Nobody had seen him either; at least nobody Noah had the chance to ask. Even when the heating went out as Melia had warned it would, he still hadn't found it.

But he was needed, so he bit his tongue, didn't express his worries and stuck to the work.

In the end, they had to move to clearing out the offices and stuffing them with mattresses to house everyone. Noah led the first group to start on it to the upstairs wing holding the administrative parts of the palace. Melia had left with a group of engineers to figure out how to keep the power plant running safely, so they'd been forced to wander the halls until they found the right place; it seemed this version of Keves Castle was no less averse to having maps on display.

Two steps out of the staircase, an odd scraping sound made Noah pause. "Did anyone come here already?" he asked Zeon, who'd volunteered to come along.

"Not to my knowledge."

They hadn't exactly kept track of everyone. Maybe someone had gone exploring. Some of the kids, going off to play... Then they rounded the corner and there N was, dragging a heavy wooden desk out of one of the office rooms. The uniform hadn't become any more flattering on him. The overly loose sleeve hanging off his arm caught on to the desk lamp and nearly pulled it off the desk altogether.

He looked up when Noah stopped in his tracks. "I thought I'd make space," he said quietly. "We won't be able to fit everyone otherwise."

Zeon shifted next to Noah, but said nothing. After a quick glance, Noah caught up to N and helped him drag the desk over to the side of the corridor. The sparking thing was heavy. Who wasted that much solid material on a desk, of all things? "Are you feeling well enough for that?" Noah asked quietly. "I mean, you were—"

"—dead? I got better, I suppose. Again. I'm fine, Noah." N dropped the desk down at the wall, then lingered by its corner, hand laid flat on the wood. "I wanted to make myself useful. That's all."

By wandering off and working away on his own. But right now wasn't the time to discuss that. Zeon still stood just a pace away.

"You can go ahead and handle the offices at the end of the hallway. I'll finish up here," N said.

Noah opened his mouth to argue; they could do this together, there was no need for N to slaver away by himself—but N finally met his eyes and mouthed, too quiet for anyone but Noah to hear: "Please."

And that sealed the deal. He trusted N as much as he trusted himself, after all. "Come talk to me afterwards, okay?" he murmured back before beckoning for Zeon to follow him down the corridor. Work first. Heart to heart conversations later.

The sun had long since set, the clocks begun to tick towards three in the morning by the time they'd finally made space for everyone. It was cramped, too many people cooped up in too small a building, even one as vast the palace; but armed with blankets they'd all be able to keep warm enough not to freeze in the chilly nights, at least.

N had come over to him in silence near the end from who knew where he'd been working away.

"I reserved space for you," Noah said. "In the room I'm sharing with Eunie and Lanz. If that's alright with you."

"Of course," N said. He looked tired, on closer inspection. There were dark rings underneath his eyes, and his hair looked still more unkempt than it had before. A far cry from the indomitable Consul Noah had first seen him as. More in line with the miserable wretch they'd found in Origin.

"It's this way." Noah beckoned down the corridor. They could wait a little longer before talking. People still milled about, fetching food or finding others to talk to for comfort. N wouldn't want to get into it in their presence.

The small room they'd taken was another repurposed office, in fact not far from where they'd found N dragging desks around. A painting hung on the wall next to the office door, a depiction of Erythia Sea framed in gold, making it easy to recognise—but it wasn't Erythia Sea, was it?

Noah purposefully didn't look at it too closely as he passed it by.

Eunie and Lanz both glanced up as Noah entered, then as one their eyes darted towards N entering behind. N, for his part, said nothing; he only settled down on the far mattress in his ill-fitting clothing, head bowed, not looking at anyone at all.

"Hey," Eunie said into the silence. "This is almost like one of those sleepovers I heard about in the City! Only way more awkward."

Right. During one of their stays he and Eunie had wound up speaking to a group of teens who'd mentioned the concept, and then made fun of them for not knowing what it was (and then apologised after realising why they didn't know). Noah had spent plenty of nights sleeping in the same tent as Eunie and Lanz, of course—colony soldiers didn't get the luxury of private rooms—and he'd privately wondered how different it'd feel to have a sleepover like that.

Probably not quite like the present situation, all things considered.

"Anyway," Eunie continued. "Who wants more bread?"

She passed a basket around. Noah grabbed a slice. It wasn't soft like the other bread had been but dark and crumbly and savoury instead, rather more like the bread Noah was used to, but with that much more flavour to it. After all the mattress carrying and the furniture dragging and the people coordinating, he crammed it into his mouth at record speed.

Still, though... As tasty as it was, and as much as he enjoyed the company, there was something missing. Three other people, to be specific. No, four, if M had also reappeared.

His hand shook a little as he wolfed down the last bite.

"Another slice?" Eunie asked, and he accepted it gladly if for no other reason than that he wouldn't have to talk with his mouth full. These were things he couldn't speak of yet. Eyes on the path ahead... for now.

Next to him, N slowly chewed on his bread, equally silent. When he didn't ask for a second slice, Noah broke off half of his own. "Share with me?" he asked.

"No need. I've had enough."

Lanz held out a hand. "I'll take it if he doesn't want it."

As Noah handed Lanz the half of the slice, N silently picked up the blanket, wrapped it around himself and laid down on his mattress, though he kept his eyes open.

"He's got a point," Eunie said.

He did. They were all tired, and tomorrow would be every bit as busy as today—moreso than today, in all likelihood. They ought to sleep, now that they'd eaten.

Still, as Noah wrapped himself in his own blanket and closed his eyes, the words he hadn't said to N weighed on his mind.

Chapter Text

It was, N pondered, something of a novelty to be baking bread again. He hadn't done it in a thousand years—why would he have? As Moebius, they hadn't needed to eat. If they'd wanted to anyway, there had been cooks in the palace tending to their every need. Still, some of the knowledge from the days before lingered in his mind, and making bread had never been difficult. Cooking had been M's... Mio's domain, but he'd been the one to bake the bread.

She'd be happy to see him elbow deep in the flour again. The thought didn't cheer him up in the slightest, even though it should have. But they needed food, as the palace's stock of readymade bread had dwindled in no time; and if anyone needed to rise early and knead the dough, it might as well be him. Spark knew it beat the alternatives, so early he rose and early he kneaded, standing in front of the long marble counter in the palace kitchen, trying not to think about things too much.

He shaped the dough into loaves, arranged them on the baking tray and pushed it into the preheated oven. It was a simple recipe developed in the days before the City had become anything resembling a settlement, when waiting around for yeast to rise wasn't an option. Too simple for a kitchen this ornate, maybe, but it was what it was.

Half an hour till the loaves were done. He could prep a second batch in the meantime. It still wouldn't be enough for everyone, but every bit helped—as Noah kept saying whenever anyone felt discouraged.

Flour, salt, sugar, water, baking powder—the latter being new to him, as he'd used potash back in the day. Mix into a dough, knead it until it had the right consistency, shape it into loaves, swap them with the ones fresh out of the oven. The smell of fresh bread filled the kitchen at this point. It was work designed to let the mind wander, unfortunately. He willed himself to focus fully on his bread up until the point he left them on the rack and left the kitchen to find something else to occupy himself with.

Even this early on, the corridors were far from empty. Other early risers, be it because they also had work or because sleep wouldn't come for them, milled about. He'd needed to find a smaller kitchen in a corner of the palace rather than using the main ones to work in private. Fortuitously, that had also led him to a remote corner of the palace in which it was easy enough to dodge any interlopers. One aspect of the palace that hadn't changed was hearing others come from afar; it made it easy to avoid running into anyone.

Like this, N reached a back exit of the palace he still remembered from Aionios and slipped out into the city proper.

Even now, stepping into the tidy little alleys presented a culture shock. It was too peaceful, too vulnerable to attacks, too little like Aionios. If this city ever came under serious attack, they'd never be able to defend it. Not with how wide open everything was, with the complete lack of bottlenecks and walls gating invaders, with how little thought had been given to stationing troops. Even the City, hidden from the war for the most part, had needed to consider these matters.

He knew he didn't need to think like that anymore. This wasn't Aionios. Yet, old habits died a long, drawn-out death, and so he walked with his shoulders hunched up ever so slightly, worried about things that wouldn't happen. Couldn't happen. There wasn't anyone else around to attack them anymore.

He avoided the main road and the people already there. The central stores of Melfica Road already had plenty of people looting anything they could; he wasn't needed there. No, his target today was a smaller shop, located in the back alleys. He'd found it the day before, while carrying supplies. It was a small thing; compared to the spacious windows all these store fronts had, positively cramped. A single mannequin stood in it, displaying some jacket or another that had maybe been in fashion before the Intersection, or maybe not. The door jingled when he opened it, heralding to no-one his arrival.

Clothes, largely untouched, lined the shelves and racks, the same models repeated time after time. Mass-produced like soldier uniforms had been, but without any of the practicability. N pulled a sweater off a rack on a whim. Dark green... like his favourite jacket back in that final life before becoming Moebius. Funny how such insignificant memories endured the ravages of the time, that he'd still remember it now.

He tossed it back on the rack and went around to the cash register. They always had bags in these stores—

—including the one standing on the counter next to a wallet, filled with a purchase someone had never gotten to take home.

N averted his gaze while rummaging behind the counter for the bags, and did not look again while cramming as many clothes as he could into as many bags as he could carry.

He only stopped when he found himself holding a red leather jacket, poised to drop it in the bag. It wasn't exactly like Noah's; different cut, different collar, not quite the same colour. At a glance it could pass for it, though.

He wavered. Then he dropped the jacked in the bag. It was selfish to pick first, he told himself. He couldn't do that. Nor should he be wasting time with hesitation. Working faster, he finished up and departed from the store, bags dangling from his arms. Back through the alleys to the palace, so that more people would have more than one change of clothes. Noah would have woken up by now. If nothing else, N should at least reassure him he was alright, lest he start fretting with worry again.

The last of the bags went on the shelf in the designated clothing storage room, for anyone who needed clothing to rifle through. N stepped away from the shelf. Time to grab something to eat and then see if he could find Noah, then something else to do.

He left the room, passed some teenagers who'd lived in the City before the Separation and made for the office area turned dormitory. Take a left turn, round the corner, cross the corridor, and then he came to an entirely too abrupt halt when he found himself face to face with the queen.

"Good morning," she said. "A fortuitous meeting. I've been looking for you." She looked serene, as she had at any other time N had seen her after the Separation. So different from the unfeeling puppet with its stern, pre-programmed demeanour.

If she guessed what he thought of whenever he laid eyes on her, she didn't show it.

"Is that so?" N asked, unsure what else to say.

"I couldn't help but notice you've been a little... aimless."

So she'd had him watched after all. He waited for her to continue, rather than responding.

"Of course," the queen said, "the same could be said for all of us here and now, but I thought I might offer you something to do that'd leverage your talents more than carrying clothes."

"And what would that be?"

"You are aware that we will need to settle the people in the city proper. As I recall, you have a remarkable aptitude for managing logistics and—"

"No," N said.

"No?" She seemed almost surprised. She'd expected him to jump at the offer, then? That was... perhaps that was deserved.

Still, he shook his head. "Nobody wants that," he said. "I'm not here to make decisions for others."

If she'd asked him what he was here for then, he wouldn't have known how to answer. She didn't, however. She only looked at him with a level gaze, somehow more unreadable than the puppet with its immovable mask. "I see," she said at last. "Then allow me to suggest an alternative. Before everyone... Before the Intersection, there was a guard force patrolling the perimeter of the city for threats. I've enlisted a few restless souls to do what they can, but they will need reinforcements. Would you be up for it?"

A simple enough task—something else he hadn't needed to do in a thousand years, but some instincts never faded. "I'll need a weapon," he said.

"It will be provided."

Just like that. "I won't be going with them," he continued.

"Unusual, but I have faith in your ability to defend yourself on your own. I will give you the tentative patrol plans, so that you can cover an area they aren't active in." If she disapproved of it, she didn't show it. "The armoury is located in the—"

"I know," N cut her short. "It's in the same place."

"Right," the queen said. "Right. Good luck on your patrols."

He nodded to her as he passed, not pausing to watch for a reaction. It was a ways to the armoury from here, but once he'd grabbed his weapon and slipped out of these too-bright too-loud too-much palace halls and left the too-peaceful and too lived-in houses behind—

—maybe then everything would feel a little easier to bear.

The city—New Alcamoth—covered a staggering amount of land. How did a city of this size even function, Noah wondered as he stared at the map Melia had given him. Everyone who had come through the Separation could fit in the city several times over, and they'd still have space to spare.

Make preparations to settle people outside of the palace, Melia had asked him, as work at the power plant proceeded apace to turn power on soon enough. He'd felt uneasy even as he said yes, but someone had to make plans for it, right? With Melia herself being busy, the task might as well fall to him. But spark, looking at the map and thinking of all these abstract places being inhabited by entirely non-abstract people that were simply gone now...

He sighed, put the map down on the mattress. A proper desk would have been nice, but as they were all stacked against the walls in various corridors he'd opted to retreat to their shared "bedroom" instead. Would that N were here. He was the more decisive between them. He wouldn't be hesitating so much. Nor would Noah have to keep glancing at the empty mattress beside his, wondering where N was, if he was alright. But short of running off to look for him there was nothing he could do about that, so he grabbed the map again and went back to studying it.

The sick ought to stay in the palace for the time being, along with enough medical staff to care for them—at least until they could get the hospital sorted out. Zeon and the others who'd taken over tending to the crops had already taken up residence in the farm houses near the edge of the city, to avoid having to walk the entire way day after day. That left only most of the people, all of which surely felt the same visceral sense of unease at intruding into the lives of those who had come before. How would he even start assigning houses? Doing it at random felt wrong.

He scratched his head. He was getting nowhere by himself—a lesson that, by all rights, he should have learned a long time ago.

He pushed himself up from the mattress, tugged on his boots and left the office turned bedroom. Time to not do it by himself. Eunie and Lanz were around somewhere. He'd find them and ask them and if the other people whose input he would have treasured weren't here what about it, one day they'd find each other again and then he'd show them a thriving city. And that was final.

He turned a corner. Then he stopped abruptly to avoid running head-first into Masha.

"Noah!" she exclaimed. "What a coincidence. I've been looking for you."

"What's up?" Noah asked. Settlement plans could wait. They wouldn't be able to put them into practice immediately anyway.

"Everyone has been making such dreadfully long faces—fully understandable, of course, fully understandable—that I can't help but feel we stand in our own way. After all, how are we to live in this world if we can't find any joy in it?"

She had a point. Even back in the colonies they'd needed to find happiness somewhere to make it through the constant fighting. As gloomy as the situation seemed, it was hardly worse than that life. "What did you have in mind?" Noah asked.

"Hampered as I am by my current lack of tools, some of my original ideas are quite unfeasible—unless you can find me a set of lapidary equipment? No? Pity. But regardless, I see the way forward in making this space our own."

And knowing her, she'd already hatched a plan. Noah waited for her to continue.

"I believe that we should come together as a newly shaped community and erect a monument to commemorate the passing of Aionios and our arrival in this world," Masha said. "Perhaps in the centre of our reappearance—surely you noticed as well that it scattered us around a single central location?"

A monument. What had happened was certainly monumental, and yet...

"You don't look happy with that," Masha said.

"It's just..." Noah shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes. "They all died."

The smile playing around Masha's lips faded. "They did, yes. Yet, at the same time, their passing gave life to us. We would not be here today if not for the calamity befalling this world. All the more reason to commemorate their passing, don't you think?"

A memorial... They'd had one in the City. Noah remembered the comfort it had seemed to bring people to come there to grieve and remember, even in the absence of bodies. "We should ask Melia first," he said. "She's the one who lost everyone close to her. We shouldn't do this without her blessing."

"That... yes, that is a fair concern. Shall we go ask her, then?"

Noah glanced at the map still in his hands.

"Got something else to do?" Masha asked.

"Yes and no. Melia asked me to look into resettling the people into the city properly."

He didn't need to explain it. He could see she understood his dilemma in the way her own brow furrowed. If he'd wanted to confide in her about his worries about N, he would have needed to—but that was something better left unsaid. He didn't think he had the words to talk about it. Not at this time.

"Well," Masha finally said. "I daresay the closure might help with that as well, don't you think?"

He did think, so they went off in search of Melia together. The entire time—while they searched the offices and the main hall and the infirmary and elsewhere—Noah couldn't help but ponder her words.

What did it mean, really, for them to gain closure?

For the person he and N had been, for a short time?

For himself?

Melia stilled after Masha asked her their question, hands hovering over the power plant manual she'd been about to pick up. They'd found her in the machinery rooms of the palace in the end, after searching high and low.

"A memorial, you say," she finally murmured before withdrawing her hands. Her voice was barely audible over the hum of the machines.

"We thought it would be best to ask," Noah said, shifting on the spot. "I'm sorry if it's not appropriate—"

"No," Melia said. "No, it's quite appropriate. It brought back memories of someone else proposing this, years and years before the Intersection... that's all." She shook her head. "It is a fine suggestion, and I appreciate that you thought to consult me. Have you considered what sort of memorial you would find suitable?"

Against his expectations, Masha didn't answer. She'd never been the type to hedge her words—apparently, Noah wasn't the only one who felt the weight of all those lives lost.

Melia looked back and forth between them, then smiled, though it looked muted. "Nothing you think of feels like it's enough, is that it?"

Noah nodded. "How could it? It'd be like... like seeing an entire world off."

"Yes... it is overwhelming, to contemplate the sheer scale of lives snuffed out even if you did not know them personally." Melia spoke softly—and, Noah thought, with a great deal of familiarity. This world had had its fair share of history as well, hadn't it? But that wasn't for him to pry into.

"You should consult others," Melia said. "In hearing what they think, you'll be able to come up with something together."

"You don't want a say?"

Melia shook her head. "It is for you to decide. I am alright with that."

Are you sure, Noah wanted to ask. It didn't feel right. It was her world too—moreso than it was theirs. But since it was her world, she also had the right to decide, didn't she?

"A sound idea," Masha said. "Shall we, Noah?"

Noah opened his mouth to say yes, but then shook his head. "I need to figure out how to settle everyone in," he said. "Just tell me what they said later." But N, he thought—N he would ask himself. Masha wouldn't, and N wouldn't answer anyone save him.

Masha didn't look convinced, but neither did she argue. They parted ways after that; Melia staying behind in the machinery hall, Masha going off to survey the people, and Noah—

Noah made good on his original plan and sought out Eunie and Lanz.

"Settling in the city?" Eunie asked. "Well, I guess it makes sense we can't stay here together. Hand me the map, will you?"

Noah handed her the map. She unfolded it, looked it over and then lowered it again. "The spark's a vacation home?"

"Good question. I'm not sure either."

They took a moment to step out of the way when a group of former cityfolk came bringing food to the infirmary. Even now that most of the soldiers had ditched their uniforms for something of this world, there was something about former cityfolk that set them apart. Something about the way they carried themselves, maybe. Noah could still pinpoint them with ease.

"I figure I should just go and see for myself," he continued after they'd passed. "A map can only tell you so much." Maybe he'd even find N, while he was at it. He knew N had been scavenging for supplies. He had to be out there somewhere, right?

"But? No, no need to say it. It creeps you out too, eh?"

"We don't have a choice," Noah said. "Somebody has to do it." And yet he wasn't out there, doing it. Hesitating again. Waiting for someone to help him again. But Mio was in a different world now, and he couldn't rely on her coming to help him this time. "I'll go," he said finally. "I just... wanted to discuss it, I guess."

"I'd offer to come," Eunie said, glancing at the infirmary, "but..."

Noah shook his head. "This is more important. You know where I am... well, sort of... if anything happens."

"Alright." Eunie peered at him. "But come ask if you need help, alright?"

He would; but he could go by himself. Talking to her had helped him make up his mind a little more.

Or so he told himself as he left, at any rate.

The "vacation home" looked, for all intents and purposes, exactly as the non-vacation homes did. Sturdy bricks, a wooden door, a little garden out back, demarcated by a quaint little fence. Unlike the non-vacation homes, though, this one lacked the address sign next to the door.

So nobody lived here, Noah thought as he stood on the front stairs. Was that it? But why? It looked like a perfectly fine building.

He tried the door. It was locked, as expected. But if nobody had lived here anyway, he didn't need to feel bad about simply kicking it in.

The lock gave way far too easily. There was nothing secure about something that flimsy, but perhaps they hadn't felt it was necessary to secure an uninhabited place.

The wooden floorboard creaked under his feet when he entered. He stopped just past the door frame, holding on to it with one hand as if to anchor himself.

It was all so spacious.

He'd felt, back then, that the City was too generous with building homes. A separate sleeping room for everyone, really? Who needed that? It was a waste, and he hadn't understood why they went for it when space was already so limited within the confines of the City. Yet this, this felt even larger. The dining room by itself was already perhaps twice as large as it would have been there, and even the towering shelf holding various knick knacks didn't compress the available space much.

He lingered for a moment to examine the shelf. A framed picture showing Erythia—Eryth Sea. A vase holding wilting flowers—had someone come here regularly then after all? A box holding playing cards that resembled those he'd seen in the City, albeit with completely different symbols on them. They showed no signs of wear and tear. Besides the cards, little trinkets—a statue of a bunnit, a jar of colourful dice. Trinkets he was wasting his time on, delaying going deeper into the house.

The corridor past the dining room led into a room with a double bed and a slightly larger one with two separate beds; no sheets or covers, nor any personal effects.

Vacation must mean that the building was waiting for people to move in, he surmised. It made sense, though why they hadn't simply called it a vacated building he didn't know. Regardless, it made these vacation homes the perfect candidate, didn't it? Easier to move in. Easier not to feel as if they were erasing what came before.

Now all he needed was a better way to locate these vacation homes to see if there were enough for everyone.

He spent the rest of the day making plans and recruiting anyone who had time to mark out potential new homes. By the time he trudged up to their shared office-bedroom, the sun was about to set, his feet were sore and the first signs of a headache pounded behind his temples once again. Still, things were moving now. They were getting somewhere, moving on from being nothing more than bedraggled refugees on unfamiliar land. They just needed more time—and time they had, now.

Time they had.

Lanz and Eunie already waited for him inside, sitting on their mattresses, jackets discarded on the floor and sharing a loaf of bread. They looked about as exhausted as Noah felt; Eunie's wings drooped, the feather tips near brushing against her shoulders, and Lanz had slumped against the wall, eyes shut.

N didn't look like anything, because he wasn't there.

"Hello, Noah," Eunie said before he could speak up.

"Hey, Eunie, Lanz." He hesitated for a moment before asking, "Do you know where N is?"

Lanz shrugged. "We both figured he was with you. You don't know either?"

"I haven't seen him all day," Noah said. For him not to be back—and to have told nobody where he'd gone—

"You want to go look for him?" Lanz pushed himself off the wall and swiped his coat off the floor with a remarkable lack of vigour.

"I can go by myself, you don't have to..."

"Bollocks." Eunie walked over to her shoes, discarded at the door, and slipped them on. "Three pairs of eyes see more than one. Don't bother protesting."

Noah closed his mouth a second before the 'but' slipped out. They were right, weren't they? It'd go faster with more people searching. "Thank you," he said. "I know you don't care much for him, so..."

"Eh," Lanz said. "He helped in the end."

And that was that. They left the room together and went about to search the city. With three people searching the palace's surroundings and many others to ask they'd find N soon, Noah told himself; he couldn't have gone far, wouldn't have been that reckless. Any minute now they'd come across him resting for a spell, or searching for resources, or doing something else—anything at all. Or someone would have seen him and point them in the right direction. N avoided others, but there were too many people milling about to dodge everyone.

Any moment now.

Any moment.

It took the sun setting on the fountain plaza for him to admit himself that they wouldn't.

Nothing happened as a result of the revelation. The sun still slipped beneath the horizon a moment later. The fountain continued to bubble along. Noah didn't have any ideas on what else to do.

"He knows how to take care of himself," Eunie said. "I'm sure nothing happened to him."

"It's not something else happening that I'm worried about." Noah ran a hand through his ponytail. He should have brought it up. Why had he been too afraid to? Why had he let N out of his sight in the first place? He'd seemed alright but—

He turned around to tell them he'd keep looking and asking around even if they went back, but stopped when he saw the queen approach them from the palace, holding a blade in her hands. She moved with a sense of purpose that made clear she meant to talk to them. Noah didn't know if that was a good or a bad sign.

"It's good to see you," Melia said by way of greeting after stopping in front of them. "Am I correct in assuming you're searching for N?"

"Do you know where he went?"

Melia shook her head. In the gloom Noah couldn't make out her face expression very well, but he thought she didn't look happy. "I suggested he take up patrols in the wilderness surrounding the city," she said. "I thought it suitable to his skillset and inclinations. I fear I may have made a miscalculation, seeing how you haven't found him yet either..."

Patrol. So he had left the city.

For a moment, Noah felt the weight of it all tugging on his shoulders. How could he possibly find N out there, not knowing where exactly he had headed or what might have happened to delay him? This world was vast, and he knew so little of it.

But that was stupid. If N could overcome the pull Z and Aionios had had on him, then Noah could overcome this. They were the same person. If anyone could trace N's path, it was him.

Where would he have gone, had he been in N's shoes?

"He wouldn't have gone far, I don't think," he said, squashing his doubts as resolutely as he could. "Do you have any idea which direction he might have picked?"

"Based on the existing patrol schedule... north, I would say, is most likely."

North—towards the cliffs. Noah pushed away the memories of what he'd seen other, desperate soldiers approach cliffsides for. N wouldn't. He wouldn't. "I'll go look for him," he said. "Eunie, Lanz—I know it's a lot to ask all things considered, but can you gather some people for a proper search party?" Same person or no, he'd need the backup unless he got lucky.

"Already set into motion," Melia said. "Here, take this. If it comes to it, you might need a weapon." She extended her hands, one holding the sword, the other a flashlight.

Noah took it, hefted it in his hands. It was heavier than Lucky Seven or his Blade had been, with a broader shape and made of a material that weighed more than Origin metal had. Still, it fit into his palm well enough. It'd do. "Thank you," he said to Melia. "I'll give it back when I come back—"

"No, keep it if you wish. I have no need of it."

He nodded her thanks, then turned around and hurried towards the outskirts of the city. Lots of ground to cover. Only a little bit of daylight left.

No time to lose.

By the time he stepped on the grass outside of the city, he'd already needed to turn on the flashlight, lowering his chances of finding anything by that much. If only they still had the Iris. If there was one thing they could have taken with themselves from Aionios...

But they couldn't, and now here he was, wasting even more time. He left the last line of houses behind, entering the outlying fields. These were still maintained, not true wilderness, but the plant life would attract wildlife and with that came the predators if nobody took care of the matter. Though the wildlife seemed reasonably similar to that of Aionios, the terrain was unfamiliar and Noah couldn't be sure no surprises waited for him.

Caution dictated to move slowly and deliberately, and though N was... in a state of mind, he wouldn't have gone against that. The path leading up the slope, then. He wouldn't have wandered off the beaten path without gaining an idea of his surroundings first.

In the quiet of the night, the gravel crunching under his feet was too loud. What a ridiculous way of making a path. None of the advantages of proper paving and none of the advantages of a hidden trail. He could practically hear the drill instructor shouting at him to pick up your feet, brat, do you even know how well Agnians can hear with those furry ears?

But he was no soldier anymore. No enemy patrols were out to get him. He had to remember that. In fact—why not take advantage of it?

"N?" he called out, cringing at the way his own voice echoed through the darkness. It was necessary if he didn't want to walk past him in the dark, though. So he kept shouting, walking through the dark with only his voice and the light of the flashlight keeping him company—fearing what he might find. Or wouldn't find.

How long he walked like this, he didn't know. Absent the Iris clock, he no longer had an easy way to keep track of the time. All he knew was that he'd shouted himself hoarse by the time a quiet answer echoed back, from ahead.

"Noah?"

To spark with caution.

Noah nearly slipped in his rush to clamber up to the top of the cliffs, kicking up gravel and scattering it by the wayside. "N?" he called out again. "Where are you?"

A faint blue glow flickered into existence ahead of him, too dim to see anything. Then the light of Noah's flashlight hit the edge of the cliff, and the tree growing right beside it, and the bench standing under it, and on it—

N. Holding a sword emitting a faint blue glow. "I'm sorry," he said, voice barely audible in the night.

With a final two steps, Noah reached the bench, dropped the flashlight and pulled him close, fingers digging into his shoulders. "I'm so glad you're okay," he said. "I was worried you'd..."

"I'm sorry," N repeated. His shoulders trembled as he sucked in a shuddering breath. "I know I should have come back hours ago."

Noah shook his head, and opened his mouth, and still didn't say the words. Still scared of the answer. It was pitiful. What would Mio say if she could see him now?

It's okay. I'm right here.

She wasn't. But she'd be again one day, and when that day came, he'd better have sorted out his issues.

"Back then," he said quietly, hesitating at the way his voice cracked, then deciding he didn't care, "back when we were the same person... I felt you—I felt us decide that you should... die."

N stilled. "I was hoping you wouldn't have retained it."

"It would have been one thing," Noah said, "if you, or we, had decided that it was necessary, but to feel my own mind conclude that it was for the best, that was..." Without meaning to, he clasped N's shoulders even more tightly, to the point it had to hurt, but N didn't pull away. "I can't recall everything anymore," he continued, every word weighing heavy. "The memories float away, one by one... I have to know. Why did we decide that?"

N sighed, inaudible yet noticeable in the slump of his shoulders. "I lived a long life, Noah," he said. "Many lives, and I remember them all. Losing everything over and over and over again. Never being able to hold on to a thing, and then hacking off pieces of my own self in a desperate attempt to cling to something, until I couldn't recognise myself... until she couldn't recognise me anymore. And I didn't even see it until we became one."

The dark leaves overhead rustled in a sudden cold breeze, disrupting the silence that followed his words. The air tasted like the sea. For a moment, Noah could have pretended he was still in his Erythia Sea.

"In that moment, when we saw what we must do to end Aionios, I thought... I thought if I accepted it, if I just let go of everything, then I'd finally find my escape from it all." N shifted then, finally pulling away from Noah enough that they could see eye to eye. He looked pale in the dim light of the discarded flashlight. "I can't be made to grieve anymore if I'm gone, can I?"

Then, abruptly, he laughed to himself. "Still a coward, you see. Even after everything, I still can't bear it—"

"Then be a coward!" Noah said, louder than he'd intended. N jumped at the outburst. "Be a coward as much as you need, just... just stay. Please. Don't—don't follow through with it. I want to walk this world with you."

"You thought I'd—" N lurched forward, grabbing him by the shoulders just like Noah had earlier. "I will stay," he said, "I will, I—I already don't deserve another lease on life when so many others didn't get the chance to see this world, how could I throw this life away?" He spoke with an earnest urgency Noah hadn't yet heard from him. He meant it, then. He wouldn't end his life.

Finally, Noah loosened his grip on him. "Thank you. I'm sorry for not trusting you more."

N shook his head. "I'm the one who should apologise for worrying you. You thought I came out here to jump, didn't you?"

"I was afraid... but say, what kept you so long then?" Noah asked.

N turned away, nudged something on the ground with the tip of his foot. Noah picked up the discarded flashlight and shone a light on it: It was a basket with some food containers in it, and a soft toy shaped like a bunnit lying next to it. Noah had seen toys like these in the City. It had been difficult to imagine having something like this as a child.

"It must have been a family. Parents, a child, coming here to enjoy the view, I suppose." N exhaled. "I came here on the way back and—it reminded me of my own, I suppose."

"What was it like?" Noah asked quietly. "If you want to talk about it."

N was silent for a long time after that, staring at his own hands resting in his lap. "What was it like," he finally echoed. "It felt meaningful. We were building something worthwhile, something greater than our short lives afforded us. At the same time, I could never outrun the shadow of only having four measly years together. Never enough time...

"By the time I was able to find the City again, several lives later, our son wasn't... there anymore. I don't know what happened to him, or what kind of life he lived after we left him behind." N's voice wavered as he finished speaking.

And he'd never get to know either. Any record that could have by miracle survived a thousand years of turmoil was gone now, along with the rest of Aionios. "I'm sorry," Noah said. They were woefully inadequate words, but maybe any words would have been. "It must have been so hard on you..."

N nodded. "It was. It is. So I run away from it until something forces me to think about it. Just like I always have."

"So am I, I suppose. I've been trying not to think about Mio... and how long it will take until we see each other again." Noah paused, chewing on the words. "And I was running away from this conversation the entire time as well."

"You're not—"

"Yes I am. So let's make a promise. Let's come to each other about our problems from here on out. No more silence."

"Alright," N said quietly, first closing his eyes, then turning to meet Noah's gaze. "I can't promise I'll be perfect about it, but... I'll try. No more silence."

And just like that, with three simple words, it felt as if the barrier that had risen between them since the Separation had been torn down. They weren't done finding themselves, Noah knew that, but now that he was once again on the same page as his other self, he'd find a way. They both would. "Move in with me," he said without thinking on his words too much.

"What?"

Right. N wouldn't know what Melia had asked him to do. "We can't live in the palace forever," he said. "Melia asked me to look into moving people into proper homes. I want to move in with you."

"I'd assumed you'd go live with Eunie and Lanz."

"I thought about it," Noah said. "But I want to move in with you."

N didn't question it. "Alright," was the only thing he responded with. "If it's what you want." Then, a moment later, he added, "We should go back. I wasted enough of your time as it is."

Noah's time, and that of everyone Eunie and Lanz had gathered for the search party. Noah winced. They couldn't have been happy to be asked to do that for N, of all people—they'd be even more disgruntled that they hadn't been needed at all. Still, nothing to be done about it now. All they could do was apologise.

He stood up from the bench and extended a hand. N regarded it with a raised eyebrow. "I'm mentally unwell, Noah. Not physically."

Noah scratched the back of his head. "Sorry—"

But N simply took his hand as he hauled himself up. "Shall we?"

They weren't actually that far from the city, in the end. They came upon the search party halfway down the slope and apologised for the trouble; there was some grumbling, but nobody escalated the complaints. It was a surprise how many people had even come; Noah counted among them even some he hadn't been especially close to and who had little reason to care about N. In some ways, perhaps they were all already moving past Aionios.

It wasn't until they'd already passed through the palace gate that he remembered what he'd meant to ask N. As the search group disbanded and people went about their way to their respective beds, he turned to N and explained what Masha had discussed with him earlier.

"A monument," N echoed. "I see. It seems appropriate."

"Do you have any ideas for it?"

N remained silent as they ascended the stairs, as they crossed the corridor, as they passed through another gate on the way to their bedroom. By the time he spoke again, Eunie and Lanz had already entered it ahead of them.

"Do you really think I should be the one to suggest anything?"

"You're a part of this world too. You have as much right as anyone else..."

N's steps faltered for just a moment. "I'll think on it," he said. "That's all I can tell you right now."

And it was enough, Noah found.

They didn't need to have all the answers just yet. They had all the time in the world to find them.

Chapter Text

The next morning N woke at the crack of dawn, feeling as if he had barely slept at all. He pushed the cover back and sat up, but didn't stand up. Noah was still fast asleep even if the other two had already left, if the light snoring coming from the other mattress was any indication. There was no need for both of them to be awake so early.

The power had been turned off again at some point after he'd gone to bed, as it had been intermittently over the past few days, leaving the digital clock blank and him with no way to tell how much time had passed other than observing the light slowly creeping up on the horizon through the curtains. He ran a hand through his hair as he settled back against the wall. It'd be a long wait in the dark, with nothing to distract himself with. Exactly what he didn't want.

M had sometimes pulled him back into bed on those days, held him tight and whispered soothing words into his ears. It had always helped, even if he hadn't managed to fall back asleep. Where was she now? Was she thinking of him too, awake at night? If it even was night in Alrest. Who knew if the two worlds were in sync in that regard. According to Melia, the communication devices needed to be calibrated to account for the differences in orbit—maybe those same differences had caused a divergence in day and night times. So perhaps she was up and about, busying herself with moving forward in life. Not that he'd ever know. Communication lines were down and nothing their engineers had tried had re-established connection.

What he wouldn't do to be out of the city right now. Maybe he'd be able to outrun his thoughts out there, like the coward he was, like he had been in those few days since Noah had found him on the bench by the cliffside. But he didn't want to leave Noah guessing where he was again. At the very least, he ought to stay and talk with him first.

So he waited, watching the sun climb up in the sky with aching eyes. Thankfully, living as a colony soldier didn't lend itself to sleeping in either, and so Noah stirred sooner rather than later. Yawning, he sat up, and in that moment, with his open hair falling over his shoulders, N felt as if he looked into a mirror. Even now, it startled him how alike they looked.

"Good morning," Noah said. "Did you sleep well?"

"It was alright," N said.

"You didn't need to sit here in the darkness by yourself, you know."

"It's alright," N repeated. "I'm used to it."

Noah swung his legs out of the bed and stood up, then walked over to the curtains and pulled them back. Light fell into the room unfiltered, making his hair glint and framing his body with a bright rim light. It reminded N of a painting he'd once seen, a remnant of the old worlds that had been slated for destruction. Someone must have painted it brush stroke by brush stroke once. Now it was gone without a trace, just like its creator.

"Breakfast?" Noah asked.

N didn't feel hungry. He still nodded.

"I can fetch something for us," Noah said when N reached for his clothes. "You can rest a bit more if you'd like."

"I lost a few hours of sleep, not a whole night. It's fine."

Noah didn't seem to believe him, if the way he squinted at him was anything to go by. How onerous, to be unable to lie to someone after having been one with them.

It was an awkward walk down to their food storage. At this time of day, plenty of people milled about the palace on their business, and with Noah by his side N couldn't simply disappear into the side corridors. There had been no incidents since that first day when Noah had talked everyone down, but N could feel the baleful stares directed his way, and the thought of deciding whether to defend himself or to—

Well, Noah had made that choice for him in the end. But still.

The pantry was even more crowded than the corridors, as people retrieved their breakfast. The original stores lining the shelves had run dry, but a steady supply of looting from the markets of this city kept them fed, for now. It was a surprise to him how little suspicion people cast on others potentially taking more than their fair share. Or that nobody even seemed to try to...

Today, cans of fruit stood neatly lined up on the left shelves. Someone must have brought them in late last night. N picked one up, hefted it in his hands. It had been days of mostly bread...

"Let's share," Noah said, picking out a small loaf of bread for the both of them, and so N didn't put the can back, and so they fetched a can opener from the kitchen adjacent to the pantry, and so they settled down in a corner of the canteen to eat. Noah cut the loaf and handed him a fork to fish the canned fruit out of the liquid.

At the first tangy taste of fruit on his tongue, N found himself back at a heart peach orchard long lost to time even before the Separation. They'd been on the run then, he and M as Ouroboros, for one reason or another just the two of them. The orchard had provided much welcome shelter and food, with the heart peaches hanging heavy on the branches. He'd climbed up into the tree to pick more, tossing them down to M's waiting hands, and then they'd sat beneath the boughs digging in with reckless abandon until the juice smeared all over their faces.

How long had it been? Lifetimes even before he'd become Moebius...

"N?" Noah asked.

Belatedly, N lowered his fork. "Just a memory I recalled. That's all."

"A good one?"

N nodded. He hadn't exactly forgotten those days—the perfect recall of Moebius wouldn't have allowed for that—but many of the memories from that time had faded into the background. Things he hadn't thought about, or maybe hadn't wanted to think about until now.

Now if only M was here to share the memory...

To disguise his soured mood, he reached for a piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth. Noah wouldn't expect him to speak with his mouth full, giving him some time to hide it. And then he felt stupid for thinking that way. No more silence, he'd said, and he was already going back on his promise?

"It's bittersweet," he said quietly after swallowing. "A lovely memory that makes it all the more apparent that she's not here right now."

Noah smiled at that, though it was with the same sadness N felt. The Separation had made them alike in that regard as well. "You can tell me about it, if you want. Maybe we can reminisce together."

Why not. Where was the harm? Haltingly, N recounted the memory with woefully inadequate words; even as he spoke, he knew Noah wouldn't grasp the full scope of the memory. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing they were still one. Everything had been easier, then.

Yet, Noah didn't seem to mind the lackluster description. "It reminds me of something that happened to us," he said, "in Makna Forest, when some Tirkins stole our food."

"Tirkins, really?"

"Yeah. At the time it wasn't exactly a happy discovery, although in hindsight..." Noah smiled. "Gathering food with everyone wasn't so bad."

N had kept tabs on them throughout their journey, but he'd missed that particular episode. Something to be glad about. Now he could hear about it without recalling his own thoughts about what they'd been doing. "Maybe when the orchards bear fruit," he said, "we can go and pick some. There are heart peach trees right here in the city."

"Heart peaches! It's been a while..." Noah fell silent, perhaps recalling an orchard memory of his own. "I'd like to go pick them with you, though first..." He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I picked out a home for us yesterday."

"Already?"

Noah shrugged. "I was going to put us last, but a lot of people got on my case for suggesting that, so... We don't have to go today," he added hurriedly. "If you don't want to—"

"Her Majesty forbade me from going on patrol today," N said; an annoying yet unfortunately logical choice, given that he hadn't taken a break since she'd appointed him. "We can go if you want."

"Stop that," Noah said.

"Stop what?"

"I didn't ask if you have time. I asked if you want to go today."

N paused, fork mid-stab into a fruit. Did he want to? He'd been fine with going along with Noah; it didn't matter where he slept and they'd move sooner or later anyway... but did he want to go today, for himself?

How much he'd forgotten about figuring out himself, in those long years of forging himself into Consul N.

"I'm not good at telling what I want, what I look forward to, anymore," he said eventually, thankful that Noah hadn't interrupted the silence. "I'm not... I don't know." He stuffed the piece of fruit into his mouth to buy himself a little more time, but there was only so long he could drag out chewing and swallowing. "I suppose that's all the more reason to do it. So yes. Let's go see what you picked out."

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot, I was just... Sorry."

"Then I'll just have to make sure I pre-empt your worries the next time." N fished the last piece of fruit out of the can

They left for their potential new home not long after. Noah took point, leading him through the alleys, while N tried not to look too hard at the houses, for these ones were certainly not these vacation homes Noah had mentioned. Not with the teapot standing on the garden table, or the toys strewn about the small sandbox, or the—

He pried his gaze away, focusing instead on the far less personal brick walls.

"It's funny," Noah said. "I'm almost a bit nervous."

"Why is that?"

"I picked it out hoping you'd like it too, and... you know, you're used to much fancier accommodations."

"Noah," N said. "The happiest I've been with my living accommodations in a long time was after I moved into an abandoned office. It'll be fine, no matter what you picked out." At the same time, wasn't it almost adorable how relieved Noah looked at his words? So concerned with whether he'd like it or not, as if that was important.

Not much later, Noah came to a halt before a one-story house. It was unremarkable as far as houses in this city went, which meant it was remarkable compared to anything N had ever seen. A small garden up front, though right now only dry grass graced it; a window with bright red curtains, the colour of Noah's jacket; some stone steps leading up to a wooden door (who had wood to waste for that?) It stood ajar.

"I couldn't find a key," Noah said, "so I had to break the lock to get in. We can bar it from the inside."

"No issue," N said as he pushed the door open and stepped inside the entrance. Wooden floorboards joined the wooden door, creaking under his shoes on the first step only. Whitewashed walls. Some trinkets standing on the drawer. Why were those here if nobody had lived in this place?

"I don't know why they kept it decorated," Noah said. "Melia told me it was to incentivise people to come, but that makes no sense to me."

N picked up one of the trinkets, a painted bunnit statue, albeit one with a great deal of artistic license employed. Moebius' old world artifact retrieval programs had sometimes unearthed remnants like this. Perhaps an alternate version of this very trinket had passed through their hands. Perhaps this entire house had existed in Aionios following the days of the Intersection, only to be eaten by the annihilation effect. Yet here it was, as if nothing had ever happened.

The only sign that Aionios had existed at all were they who now dwelled in this world.

"N?"

He put the trinket down and looked at Noah. "I was lost in thought. Sorry." Crossing the entrance hallway, he pushed the first door open and peeked inside. It was a kitchen-living room hybrid, with the stove lined against one wall and a dining table accompanying it, and a sofa in the corner. Cushions lay piled up on it, each in a different pastel colour. There were none of the personal effects he'd seen through windows or in the palace; no open books left behind or half-eaten meals still on plates.

"The bedrooms are over here," Noah said. "They're nothing special compared to how these people lived, but at least there's no—"

"Can we really take the easy way out, Noah?"

Noah closed his mouth, then shrugged sheepishly. "Not just me thinking it then?"

"There aren't enough houses like this for everyone, are there?" N asked. "If we move in here, someone else will have to take one of the... the formerly occupied ones."

"Yeah." Noah paused before continuing,"I was hoping it would be alright with you. I could have swallowed the discomfort if it meant..."

"Don't coddle me, Noah. I am the last person who should get special treatment. But I... I do appreciate you looking out for me.

The corner's of Noah's mouth turned upwards. "I take it we're giving this one to someone else, then?"

"I suppose we are."

And in that moment, N felt in his core that they really were alike. He'd doubted it before—hadn't wanted to believe it, even—and he'd come to doubt it again in the future, but right here and now, it was stark apparent that they were two sides of the same person. He felt himself reciprocate the smile, Noah in turn smiled back more broadly, and the morning sun finally peeked out from beneath the clouds, bathing them in light through the window.

"It's a pleasant day," he said, gazing out onto the street. "Let's go look for a different home while the sun is out."

His words lit a spark in Noah's eyes, beyond the glint of sunlight reflecting off of them. It was a good feeling, to lift him up rather than try to crush him underfoot.

"You've been looking around the city more than I have," he asked Noah as they left the door with the broken lock ajar, ready to take in whoever would make their home here. "Where should we go?"

"You pick. Any direction will do."

So N picked, taking the road to the south. He still kept his eyes trained on the impersonal parts of the city, the pavement, the walls, anything but the windows; but despite that and despite the lingering chill of winter giving way to spring, the sunshine chased away some of the cold.

"Choose at random?" he asked as they turned the corner into another street. If neither could stomach looking at the houses much, it seemed the only choice left.

"We might as well," Noah said, turning around and pointing at a house on the left. "That one."

'That one' turned out to be a smaller house wedged between two larger ones, albeit still large by City standards, with a small front yard left barren by the cold weather. It didn't look all that different from the vacation home at first glance; the door was painted red, the windows were a tad larger and the fence surrounding the front yard looked more weathered. At the second, N spotted a table set with plates through the window, complete with cutlery strewn across the plates.

Neither of them made a move to hop the fence and enter the yard.

Yet, despite the discomfort weighing him down, the day was still bright and clear, and Noah was still by his side. He took Noah by the hand, nodded to him and then pulled him over the fence before his unease could catch up with him again, and Noah followed him without hesitation. It was only when N approached the front door, past the barren front yard, that Noah stopped him.

"Melia said people sometimes store a hidden key somewhere around their house," he said. "Let's look for that before we break in."

"Why would they do that?"

Noah shrugged. "I didn't ask. She was busy."

That made sense, so N didn't ask any further question and turned his attention to searching the exterior. There was a bench nested against the house wall; he lifted it up on both sides, but no key lay underneath the bench legs. The empty flowerpot beside it didn't hold it either. His gaze drifted towards the barren flowerbeds. Buried in the soil, perhaps? He didn't much like the thought of digging into the ground with his bare hands in these temperatures, but if needs must...

"Found it," Noah announced just after he'd crouched down and extended a hand towards the dirt. "What are you doing over there?"

"Nothing," N said, pulling his hand back. "Where was it?"

"There was a gap under the stairs." The door unlocked with a click that seemed louder than it should have. Noah glanced at N for a moment too long to hide his discomfort, then entered ahead of him.

The difference to the vacation home was stark.

Shoes stood haphazardly stacked on a rack next to the door—adult-sized ones only. One had fallen off and lay sideways on the floor, revealing the dirt stuck under the sole. There was a coat rack too, with a pair of warm winter coats hanging on a wire. All of that had belonged to someone once.

The temptation to go back to the vacation home, to take the easy way out and avoid all of this, was real. It'd be so simple. He could just say to Noah that he'd changed his mind. Noah would accept it, wouldn't push for it... because Noah was too kind for his, for their own good sometimes. What he'd put on himself he'd try to spare N, out of a misguided feeling that he needed the respite.

And maybe he did, sometimes. But not right now.

He walked past the shoes, past the coats, past the little bench with the embroidered cushion on it, and entered the living room. The newspaper left on the dinner table screamed the date of the Intersection at him. It was folded messily, as if the person who'd been reading it hadn't had the time to put it back properly before leaving. Hadn't even had the time to put away the plates. And there, at the edge of the table up against the wall, stood a framed photo, a High Entia couple arm in arm, beaming into the camera—

Once again, N tore his gaze away. Then looked back at it again. No more running, he'd promised to himself and to Noah.

They'd been young, the two that had lived here. Barely older than Noah and him, from the looks of it. When did people in this world move out of their parents' homes? Was it normal for people their age to live with a partner, or had they been early bloomers? At least N didn't recognise their faces. If they still existed as their new selves from Aionios, he'd never met them.

"We should... we should find out their names," Noah said. N jumped; he hadn't noticed Noah following him, so absorbed in the photo had he been. Noah was right though. They couldn't take this place without learning about its former inhabitants.

It took some rummaging, made longer by their shared reticence to touch this house of the dead. Eventually, though, Noah came across a stack of envelopes with the couple's names on them. Mel'iren and Galtryth. Two people who had lived their peaceful lives in this world, only to disappear forever in an instant. Or perhaps two people who'd never found their peace, who'd been struggling to find their place in the world, only to be denied it forever. Who knew? It couldn't be divined from these envelopes, black names on white paper.

Names...

"Hey, Noah," N said. When Noah looked up, he continued, "There are probably too many names for it, but... if we want to build a memorial, then I say it should have the names of those who disappeared. And those we knew who didn't make it out of Aionios."

It felt like a trite thing to say; surely someone else had suggested the same, maybe they'd even already decided on it while he'd been out on patrol, but Noah didn't call him out on it. He only nodded earnestly and said, "I agree. I'll mention to Masha that you suggested it."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? She's—"

"—going to listen to the people's opinion, and you're one of them."

N didn't argue. "Do you think we can do this?" he asked instead. "Move in, just like that?"

"I don't know," Noah said. "Let's find out together."

N placed the envelopes back on the table. "Yes. Let's."

In the end, they decided to stay in the living room for now; the L-shaped couch was big enough that they could both sleep on it, and entering the bedroom felt too intimate. Even Noah, who hadn't had a concept of a private bedroom until he'd stayed at the City for too brief time, couldn't bring himself to do it.

Even then, N privately wondered if he could really bring himself to sleep in this living room, or if he'd be trading the awkward office bedroom for even more sleepless nights. At least it'd be a different reason to be awake for a change.

They left to fetch their scant belongings not long after, and to grab food at the castle. Noah, at least, seemed to be in good spirits on the way. He hummed a tune under his breath as they walked. It wasn't the off-seeing melody, nor any other that N recognised. "Did you come up with that?" he asked, and regretted it immediately when Noah stopped humming.

"I've been playing around with melodies lately," Noah said, looking flustered. "I guess that one stuck. Still, it doesn't feel quite right."

"How so?"

"Maybe it's just harder than I thought," Noah said. "I've always made my variations on the off-seeing tune, but coming up with a melody from scratch is something else." Then, a little bit too hastily to be believable: "But I'll manage, don't worry."

Come to think of it, Noah hadn't been playing very much, had he? N remembered from their shared time that he'd done it all the time in Aionios, but since the Separation the flute had lain silent. Or perhaps Noah had simply chosen to play elsewhere. N wouldn't blame him. The clatter of that selfsame flute landing on the ground before Noah still replayed in his ear.

"I liked the tune," he offered awkwardly. "It's nice."

"You think so? Isn't it missing something?"

Noah was the musician between them. N had never so much as touched an instrument in his life. Who was he to disagree? "I don't know," he said. "Sorry. I have no ear for it."

"No, it's alright. I'm sure I'll figure it out."

I'll help if you want, were the words N wanted to say. If nothing else, I can listen to what you come up with.

But what right did he have to ask that of Noah, after everything that had happened? After spending an eternity spitting on the concept of off-seeing? They'd told each other that they'd share their troubles with each other and N had no intention of reneging on that, but there were still things he couldn't, shouldn't say to Noah.

Instead, he only said, "Good luck."

If the non-committal answer bothered Noah, he didn't show it. In fact, not long after they both fell silent, he started humming again; the same melody, with a few alterations.

It really was a nice tune.

Chapter Text

It was late in the afternoon, the sun already touching the horizon, when N returned to New Alcamoth, walking right past the castle without sparing it a look. There was fresh food to be had in its canteen, harvested from what the former inhabitants of Colony 9 had been able to scrounge from the fields outside of town, but he wasn't in the mood to eat in public after the hassle with the eluca out on patrol. The bread Noah had fetched some days past would do, even if it was growing increasingly stale. He wanted a shower and sit down with a glass of water and talk to Noah about recruiting more people to patrol the surroundings, and then he did none of those things when a kid he vaguely remembered seeing with Noah jumped out in front of him out of nowhere, rambled something about needing help and then dragged him off in the opposite direction of his new home.

Scowling, N pulled his arm free. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Oh! I thought you knew. Sorry. The name's Valdi."

Valdi. Right. Former commander of Colony 30. N remembered fielding complaints about his conduct, though the specifics eluded him as he had unceremoniously trashed the reports and reprimanded the Consul assigned to the colony for wasting his time with such nonsense. It seemed the reports had not been entirely inaccurate, in hindsight.

"Listen—" he started, but before he could tell Valdi to go away he'd had already grabbed him again and continued babbling.

"It's like this, see—"

"Quiet," N snapped. It did the job. Valdi shut his mouth at once and looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. And shock. And maybe a little bit of fear.

People had looked at Consul N that way, once.

And just like that, the reprimand died in N's throat. What was he thinking? He couldn't treat people like that anymore, even if they deserved it. Taking a deep breath and forcing himself to speak more calmly, he said, "You can't just grab people and drag them off. It's been a long day and whatever you need can't possibly be that urgent if you're turning to me."

"I... ah, I'm sorry." Valdi kicked his feet, not quite meeting his eyes. "I've been looking for you for a while now, so when I finally spotted you..."

What N wanted was to tell Valdi off, order him to come back tomorrow or any other day. Make him make an appointment, even; surely that was the smarter way to handle matters even now? Perhaps the only thing he wanted less than eating at the canteen was to run off and help the boy with whatever inane issue he had, but—but the startled look in Valdi's face hadn't quite subsided, so he forced himself to say instead, "What is it you wanted me for?"

Valdi hesitated, but it seemed the need to share won out in the end. "You know how Zeon and the others are working in the fields?"

N nodded. It was difficult to miss, with the near manic enthusiasm they had for planting potatoes. Noah had told him they'd started cultivating them long before the end of Aionios to feed themselves after losing access to castle rations. Now N felt a lingering unease at the thought of eating the produce they'd harvested—not that he'd told Noah about that, though.

"It just looks like so much work, doesn't it? Tilling the fields, planting potatoes, watering them all the time if it doesn't rain. And we all depend on what they plant, right? Melia said her people got so much food from Erythia Sea, but until we can figure out how to work the fishing boats farming's our best shot. So I thought, why not build a Levnis that can do some of the work? Only, I'm having a hard time getting used to the technology used in this world."

"And you want my help with that because..."

Despite the lukewarm response, Valdi seemed encouraged that he was engaging with the idea at all. "Well, you were a Consul, right?" he said with nary a care in the world, as if there was nothing unusual about having a former Consul among them. "You have to know all sorts of cool stuff you never told us about. I mean, you guys constructed the Ferronises and the Flame Clocks and I have no idea how I'd even start with that."

N shook his head. "I was never involved with either of those."

"Aw, really? I don't miss the Flame Clocks and all, but the Ferronises were pretty cool. Well, anyway, you probably still know a lot about technology that you never told us, right?"

What an exceedingly strange individual. He wasn't wrong, per se; though N had never been a mechanic, he'd learned his fair share about technology from overseeing projects like the Annihilator. Even if he knew nothing more of this world's technology than Valdi did, perhaps he'd have an edge at figuring it out.

He didn't want to. He really, truly, was not in the mood for it. Yet, at the same time, he'd wished for a way to be useful, hadn't he? How could he say no after being approached personally by someone who didn't simply seek to get him out of the castle as much as possible? Tired or no, was this not what he had wanted?

Valdi would surely notice his total lack of enthusiasm, but still N said, "Show me."

And Valdi cheered and dragged him off towards his workshop, past the quaint houses and a few scattered people eyeing them with confusion and distrust and into the commercial district some streets over. The entire time, Valdi dumped what seemed to be the entirety of a Levnis specification document on him, from memory. N didn't bother inquiring. Whatever Valdi actually needed would become apparent once they'd reached wherever he was taking them. Maybe. Hopefully.

The clock tower in the central plaza had just begun to strike six when Valdi came to a halt in front of an open hangar. Levnises of a vastly different build than the ones whose construction N had occasionally overseen were parked inside, accompanied by crowded workbenches. In a cleared space in the centre stood a half-assembled Levnis; the outer case had not yet been installed, leaving its components in plain view.

"So," Valdi said, tugging him towards that Levnis, "this is what I'm working on! Only, it doesn't work right yet and I'm struggling to figure out why."

"And 'it' not working right entails..."

Valdi skipped away to one of the workbenches, where scattered pieces of paper slipped off the edge from the disturbance in the air Valdi's prancing had caused and slid across the ground. N bent down and picked one of the sheets up. The entire left half of the paper was covered in black smudges. An abominable lack of standards.

"Sorry! I thought I had this secured. Hold on, I'll just gather them up real quick."

"Next time," N said, "put them away properly before you bring anyone over."

"I swear I try, just—" Valdi sighed. "No, you're right. I messed up. Yuzet always says the same too. Sorry."

It wasn't the reaction N was accustomed to. Reprimanding his subordinates in the days of Moebius had invariably resulted in one of two outcomes: Either the target vigorously defended themselves, and those were the ones he swiftly demoted or deposed of, or they grovelled in fear. Valdi did neither. Though apparently contrite, he didn't seem intimidated at all. Or angry. Or any of the other emotions he really ought to be feeling.

"Anyway," Valdi continued, already more upbeat as he handed him the stack, "here, this is what I've been doing."

N flipped through the sheets. A farm Levnis in charge of checking soil conditions and identifying plant diseases... It probably would be helpful, if it could be made to work. N was no expert on farming, but he knew how easy a harvest could be ruined by those factors.

The specifications were comprehensive, if written in a way he would describe as idiosyncratic if he were feeling charitable; chaotic, if he were not. Still, the information was all there even if he had to search more than he should have. Valdi had been busy these past weeks. Probably because the other engineers had wanted to sideline him instead of bringing him to the power plant. And who could blame them for it?

So Valdi had gone to N for help.

"You should know I'm not an engineer," he hedged. "I picked up knowledge over the years, but if a proper mechanic can't figure it out, the odds of me being useful..."

"Aww, come on, can't you give it a try?" Valdi's face suddenly brightened. "Here, how about this, we'll say you're not helping me with my project but sharing your knowledge with me so I can use it, that's not an issue, right?"

In all the years he'd spent as a Consul, and with all the people he'd interacted with in that function, N had never found anyone he'd struggled so much with saying no to. "Fine," he said. "I can do that much, I suppose."

"Yippee!" Valdi all but bounced over to him and enthusiastically shook his hand. "Welcome aboard project Mechafarmbuddy!"

The name didn't exactly roll off the tongue. Still, as N recounted the specifics of advanced circuitry that had been reserved for Consuls to the best of his ability and Valdi hastily scribbled down notes in an unreadable chicken scrawl that N would have reprimanded him for in the old days, he found that it wasn't so bad. It was a welcome change in routine, if nothing else.

"...and by using that alloy instead of silicon," he finished eventually, "power efficiency increases drastically, which solves any number of power supply problems."

Problems that Valdi had surely run into himself, but rather than complaining that Moebius had kept that knowledge to themselves, he beamed and dragged N over to one of the workbenches. "That's super interesting," he said, "because do you see these chips here? They use that alloy! I discovered it earlier, only I had no idea why since the manuals didn't say anything on the matter."

That was interesting. "Z must have taken the knowledge from Origin's database," N said slowly. And if that was the case, there was every chance that other reserved engineering knowledge he held also came from this world, or the other one that had now become inaccessible to them.

And if that was the case, perhaps he would be of use in this endeavour after all.

By the time Valdi stopped bombarding him with questions about the alloyed transistors, many of which N had to decline answering due to lack of knowledge or remembrance, the afternoon had passed and evening had arrived. It wasn't quite dark outside yet, but it wouldn't be long now.

Belatedly, N thought that Noah probably wondered where he was. He didn't normally come home this late.

As he was about to announce his departure, Valdi followed his gaze out of the window. "Shoot!" he said. "I completely forgot about the time. I didn't keep you here for too long, did I?"

"No," N said, unsure if it was a lie or not.

"Oh, good. Can I ask you for help again in the future? I don't think any of this solves the problems I had, but maybe we can find something else that does!"

Valdi hadn't even described what his problems were in the first place or what he had done to diagnose why his Levnis didn't work. Nor had he given N the time to go through the specifications to see how it was meant to work.

Uncharitable though it might be, N couldn't blame the other mechanics for getting him off their own projects. Still, he said yes. Maybe the next time Valdi would be organised enough to give him a proper breakdown of the project. If not, then circuitry wouldn't be the only thing N could teach him about engineering. The management side thereof was something he had plenty of experience with, after all.

Valdi insisted on accompanying him back to his home; N was only a little surprised to hear Valdi didn't simply sleep in his workshop. The entire time they spent walking Valdi continued talking about his project, or about projects he'd worked on in Aionios. N let the words wash over him. His tolerance for small talk had waned over the years, and none of it sounded like he needed to know specifics to further the farm Levnis project.

Then Ethel turned the corner into their road ahead of them. She looked every bit as she had in the throne room on that day, just a few months ago—only minus the fearful look in her eyes.

"Hey, Ethel", Valdi greeted as he skipped ahead towards her. "How have you been? I haven't seen you for a while."

Ethel didn't answer. N's sight was good enough that he could see her eyes narrow and her lips compress into a thin line. Her avoiding him, in a population too small to accidentally do that, would have been enough of a sign that she hadn't forgiven him for anything; this was only further confirmation.

"Good evening," he said quietly. He could be polite. It was hardly enough, but even so.

At the sound of his words, Ethel tore her gaze away from him and glanced at Valdi. "Take care," she said to him before brushing past N without so much as another look.

"Uh, Ethel?" Valdi asked, but again she gave no answer. He shook his head and, after she'd turned into another alley and vanished from sight, looked at N. "What was that all about?"

"Has nobody told you what happened... what I did?"

"Eh," Valdi said. "It sounded pretty bad, but it's in the past now, right?"

There was a sincerity to his words that made it impossible to doubt that he truly meant it, or to find a response to it. How could anyone be this... this? Not even Noah was that forgiving. "It's not that simple," N eventually settled on.

"Isn't it? I don't really get how that all works, but you're basically Noah, aren't you? I know I can trust Noah."

Basically Noah.

He should be so lucky.

Valdi, apparently unaware of N's thoughts, prattled on, "And anyway, clinging to old resentments doesn't help anything. I mean, Alex—Alexandria of Colony Iota, their commander, I'm not sure if you—"

"I'm familiar," N said.

"Oh, cool. We were enemies too, obviously, and we still ended up becoming friends. If we managed that it can't be that hard with you, right?"

What could he possibly answer to that? The reality was that Valdi and Alexandria had been on even footing. They'd both been caught in the system that had propped Aionios up for millennia and had done the best they could in the confines of their stations. N's role had been fundamentally different. A schemer behind the scenes. A beneficiary of the system, not a victim.

"Have someone tell you the full story—Her Majesty, perhaps, if she has the time," he ended up saying. That would answer Valdi's question all on its own. Though N had not been involved in capturing Melia, he had done his part in ensuring she stayed imprisoned. She wouldn't be inclined to mercy towards him.

"I'm pretty sure I know everything already, but... okay, sure, I can ask again," Valdi said. "I'll send word once I worked through the stuff you told me, alright?"

N gave up. It was abundantly clear that Valdi was as detached from reality as he himself had been, though in the polar opposite direction of self-delusion, and N wasn't the right person to puncture that bubble for him.

Cheerful as ever, Valdi bid him goodbye soon after that and went off on his own while N crossed the remaining distance to the house he and Noah had moved in. The plants in the little pots by the stairs had started withering, he noticed. Hard though they were to look at, he made a mental note to figure out how to tend to them.

As he pulled off the sturdy boots he wore when out in the wilderness, Noah appeared in the door frame leading deeper into the house. His face lit up when he saw N; lips curving into a small smile, eyes glinting. They were N’s own eyes, and still they looked so different on Noah.

"Good evening," Noah said. "What took you so long?"

"Your friend Valdi dragged me off to help on his project. I'm sorry. I should have sent word."

Noah shook his head. "No, no... it's fine. I was just... nevermind. Were you able to help?"

"Not yet. He'll probably come asking for me again at some point." But that wasn't today. Today, he would sit down on the sofa and rest for the remainder of the day.

"I brought food," Noah said. "So we can cook together."

It was an idea Noah had floated in the days past. Though it was more practical to keep food in central storage, their new home had a fully functional kitchen and these days, power supply was mostly stable. Nothing was stopping them from cooking for themselves sometimes, Noah had said; why not give it a try? And N had come home late, leaving Noah to do it by himself. Fantastic. Even when he did something right, it ended up being wrong. "Sorry," he said, not quite meeting Noah's eyes as he passed him by. "I'll be there the next time."

"What are you talking about? The food's still in the kitchen."

N stilled. "It's—" He glanced at the clock. "—nearly eight in the evening and you waited for me instead of eating?"

Noah scratched the back of his head. "I probably should have—you must have eaten already, so..."

As any reasonable person would have. Clearly, neither Noah nor he counted for that. In moments like these, N could almost see that they were indeed the same person—though as always, Noah had the better reasons for his actions.

He couldn't deny feeling happy Noah had waited.

"I haven't eaten yet," he said. "Let's... let's try?"

Noah's face brightened. "Let's," he said, and they departed for the kitchen together, where a stack of cans and a cloth bag stood on the counter.

"I wrote down some recipes I remember Manana making," Noah explained. "I don't know how well it'll work with canned food, but, well, we're not exactly flush with fresh food right now..."

Not until the next harvest to replace the rotted supplies came in, at least. The entire city losing power hadn't helped the food situation in the slightest. "What's the recipe?" N asked.

Noah handed him a sheet of paper, covered in handwriting N knew intimately well, all the way down to the little curl at the end of the letter 'a' that M had told him she found endearing once. How was even their handwriting identical? So many things about their situation made so little sense.

He skimmed the recipe. 'Feisty-spicy zestbeans'. If there had been any doubt that the recipe had originated from a nopon, the title alone would have given it away. The dish consisted of soybeans mixed with nuts in a spicy apricot sauce. He remembered the palace cooks cooking similar meals. Moebius didn't need to eat, but he'd stuck to it for a fleeting sense of normalcy anyway. He'd never known how the dish was prepared, but the recipe seemed simple enough.

"We didn't soak the beans overnight," Noah said, "but Manana once told me that you can cook and strain them to remove the husks if you need it done quickly. Up for an experiment?"

"Why not," N said. The bag of beans sat on the counter. He loosened the string holding it shut, then poured the contents into a pot and filled it with water. "How hot?" he asked.

"That's the experiment part."

N squinted at the cook pot, then turned it up to full heat.

Then they stood next to each other in silence. The clock mounted on the kitchen wall ticked down the seconds. It was odd that all these people had always cooked for themselves. Wasn't it more energy- and time-efficient to have central canteens?

"So," he said, more to break the silence than anything else. "You... used to eat this during your travels?"

"Sometimes, yeah. Though Manana liked to experiment as well, so we rarely ate the same thing twice." Noah smiled. Sounded happy, too.

N knew for a fact that that life was stressful—being on the run from both nations and Moebius, having to make do with rations and food they could forage along the way, nevermind that soldiers weren't told about most wild-grown food so that they'd remain dependent on castle rations, and then needing to figure out how to make meals out of it. He remembered well the pressing question of where tomorrow's meals would come from. Becoming Moebius had alleviated that issue, of course; not merely freeing M and him from the need to eat, but also allowing them to eat whatever they wanted whenever they wanted.

Despite that, he understood why those memories made Noah happy. He recalled those stressful meals during life on the run with more clarity than any he'd had as Moebius.

"She'd eat at the canteens whenever we stopped at a colony and then created her own spin on whatever they served there," Noah continued. "Taion made the mistake of telling her the canteen version was better once and she tried sending him to bed without dinner."

There had been no Manana in N's lives. More often than not, it was Mio who had taken over cooking duty whenever they'd found each other. Always up in the morning starting soup, and always willing to warm it up for him again when he felt ready to stomach it later in the day...

The water in the pot now bubbled. He turned down the heat and stirred it. Was stirring necessary? It probably wouldn't do any harm. The beans wouldn't be ready yet, of course, and that left him unsure how to fill the silence once more.

"How was talking to Valdi?" Noah asked a few moments later.

N could hide behind pointlessly stirring the beans a little longer, but he had to answer, didn't he, even if he didn't know how he felt about it. "Valdi is," he eventually said, "difficult to work with."

And to his surprise, Noah nodded in response. No protest, no scolding for being too hard on the boy. Just: "I'm sure it can be a bit tough on serious engineering projects. We mostly just supplied him with materials—never had to discuss the specifics with him."

"I can tell he mostly worked on those alone. It shows."

"So you'll teach him to do it better?"

"That's—" Exactly what he had thought to himself, wasn't it? N gazed down at the beans, floating this way and that in the hot water. "I suppose I will, if he's amenable."

Then Noah directed his smile at him, radiant and warm and full of kindness. Back then, in the space between their two souls, he'd basked in Noah's boundless kindness without issue. Now, being the target of it made him feel flustered, wanting to fidget.

"I think the beans might be ready," Noah said.

N started, then caught himself. It wasn't like him to be so on edge. He scooped out the beans with a ladle, dropped them into a bowl of cold water that Noah offered him and then rubbed the beans against each other in the water. The husks came off easily, swimming on the surface ready to be skimmed off. How did a Nopon do this without getting fur all over the food? Maybe Manana had gotten Noah and his group to do it. N should probably recall that from the time they'd been one person, but the memories had grown hazy in the weeks since.

Dipping his hands in the water, Noah joined him. Together, they grabbed ahold of fistfuls of beans and divested them of their husks, then skimmed off the top whenever they grew too numerous. It was comfortable in its repetition, and that unnerved him.

Comfort in repetition was stagnation. It was running away.

"Do you think," he started, even though every fibre of his being screamed at him to shut up, to not even think of this, "do you think that M—Mio—would like it if I made this for her?"

Noah stilled, the smile slowly slipping from his face before he brought a shaky rendition of it back. A few beans dropped through his fingers and fell back into the water before he spoke. "You know her better than I do."

Did he? Ever since the eclipse, he'd felt as if he didn't know anything about her at all. It wasn't Noah's business to fix his own screwed up relationship, though, especially not if the reminder that he was apart from his own Mio caused him pain. "I'm sorry," N said, gazing down at this own fistful of beans. "I didn't mean to bring up bad thoughts."

But that was just like him, wasn't it? Always saying the wrong thing. To Valdi. To Noah. To Z and to M and to everyone else.

He dropped the beans back into the water and skimmed off another bunch of husks, dropping them on the pile already sitting next to the bowl. Then, just like he had before, Noah laid a hand on his shoulder, saying, "It's alright." Unlike before, his hand was still sopping wet from processing the beans. The wetness seeped through N's shirt in no time.

"Ah—I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, I'll get you a new shirt—"

"It's fine," N said only to be drowned out by Noah fussing more. It was just a bit of water. It didn't even register on the scale of discomforts they'd endured over the course of their lives. Why was he so...

They were the same person, weren't they?

Without thinking about it any further, lest he lose courage and back down again, he splashed water from the bowl on Noah, and a bean or two besides. Noah sputtered wordlessly.

"There," N said. "Now we're even and you can't use it as pretext anymore. Listen, Noah... don't hide behind things like this. Don't be me and push it all down. You don't... you don't have to talk to me about it, but..."

Noah exhaled slowly, closed his eyes for a second and then looked directly at N again. "There's no hiding things from you, is there?"

"It'd be hard to, after everything that happened."

Noah laughed shakily. "You're not wrong. I guess I've been keeping it in. Lanz and Eunie and some others asked me about things, but I..." He shook his head. "It's hard to talk about it."

It was. Spark, but it was.

Dipping his hands in the water again, Noah picked up another fistful of beans, but then only stared at it motionlessly. "Sometimes when I play, I expect her to join right in with me. We improvised songs sometimes. She was better at it than me. Always knew how to accompany whatever I came up with."

So he had still been playing, out of earshot. He had every right to do that, of course. Every right. N resumed his work on the beans as he listened in silence.

"I knew we'd be separated of course, and I'll be fine—no, really, I'll be fine. If that's the price we pay for freedom then I'll gladly pay it. But..." Noah sighed. "It doesn't make it any easier, does it? It must be the same for you."

"No," N said. "I don't think it is." He turned to Noah and softly shook his head. "Of course I want to see her. I feel—incomplete without her. That's exactly why I think it's better if we spend time apart." It was a difficult thing to say out-loud. The words felt like a betrayal of everything he'd ever stood for, of everything either of them had ever wanted.

"Becoming one with you already changed me," he continued when Noah didn't answer. "But it's not enough. I want to find my own path, not dependent on hers or yours or anyone else's, even if, right now, I have no idea where I'm going. If I could establish contact between the worlds right now I would, for you and your Mio, but I'd beg for time on my own from mine."

He hoped he would, at least. It was all he could do.

At that, Noah smiled—a genuine smile again. "For you to say that, it shows you're already on the right path."

"Thank you," N said, unsure what else to say and busying himself with the beans again to paper over the discomfort. Thankfully, Noah went to fetch new shirts for them from their limited laundry, sparing him the need to say anything further.

They changed right there in the kitchen and then they roasted the nuts and cooked the apricot sauce with the canned apricots and the beans and finally ate the fruits of their labour with some leftover bread.

It was terrible.

The nuts were burned and the beans soggy, with husks remaining among them. Whatever they'd done to the sauce had somehow made it feel simultaneously too bland and too spicy. It took willpower to even swallow the first bite.

"Wow," Noah said. "We're bad at this."

Consul N, the indomitable shadow ruler of Keves, laid low by a recipe called feisty-spicy zestbeans. Despite everything—despite his struggles, despite the somber conversations—N found himself biting back laughter. And then he stopped biting it back, because what was the point?

Noah joined in a moment later, and that only made N laugh harder, which in turn invigorated Noah even further. There wasn't anything funny about the situation, not really, but still they laughed until N had to wipe a tear from his eyes.

They still choked it down in the end, of course. The bitter taste of burned food lingered in N's mouth unpleasantly; a sharp contrast to the delicacies he'd eaten as Moebius.

"Looks like we're doing okay on our promise for no more silence," Noah said as they gathered the dirty dishes. "Let's keep doing that."

"Let's," N agreed.

Perhaps he wasn't doomed to making the same mistakes he'd perpetuated for a thousand years after all.

Chapter Text

It came with a niggling sense of guilt to enjoy being out here on patrol all by himself, after Noah had expressed he worried for N going out by himself, but how could he help it? It was quiet here in the fields of the former Bionis' shoulder, with the only sounds being that of the waves lapping at the shore. The sun felt warmer today than it had last week or the week before, and the first few flower buds had started appearing on the ground. Spring had begun rolling in, and he enjoyed seeing it without being bothered by interlopers.

Or at least, that was normally the case on his patrols.

"For the last time," N said, very pointedly not looking at the source of his annoyance, "what do you want?"

"Can't a man come have a chat with his old colleague, lad?"

There were so many things N could have told Triton in response. For starters, they hadn't been colleagues; N had been his direct superior before 'T' had officially gone rogue. It was fortunate that Z had never cared overmuch about disciplining his subordinates, as getting Triton in line had quickly proved impossible. X, in a rare fit of solidarity, had told him not to bother; the previous Head Consul of Keves hadn't managed it either, she'd said. And that should have been it, if not for the fact that Triton was incurably social and for reasons unknown to N sought out the company of his fellow Moebius intentionally.

M had found it endearing. It was the only reason he hadn't taken more drastic measures to put an end to the annoyance.

"I'm at work, Triton," he said. It'd do nothing to deter him, but then neither would silence.

"Aaah, come now, ye can't even stop an' have a word? There be nothing dangerous 'round here, surely." As if to prove his point, Triton theatrically craned his head to look here and there.

He wasn't wrong. They were still near the city, with the outskirts clearly in sight. This close, there would be no threat. N had planned to pass through quickly and survey the shores, and he wouldn't have the time if he wasted his breath with Triton here. Unfortunately there was no way around it, though, short of doing something drastic that Noah would not approve of, so he gnashed his teeth and said, "If you can keep up you can come along."

"There ya go! I knew you'd come around. I've been lookin' to talk with you since that Origin doodad spat us all out in this place, y'know."

"And I've been avoiding you for that precise reason."

The pace N set was brisker than he would normally take. Going too fast on patrol meant a risk of missing things in his hurry; it was reckless, but he couldn't help the impulse.

Tragically, Triton wasn't deterred by the tempo.

"What's gotten ye so aloof anyway, eh?" he asked, scratching his beard. "It ain't anythin' new from you, o' course, but I'd've thought ye'd've dropped the act by now."

"Whatever makes you think it's an act? You've caused me enough headaches over the years. It should come at no surprise if I want nothing to do with you."

As was his wont, Triton simply guffawed. "Yer always taking things too seriously, that's why. If ye'd just loosen up a bit, I'm tellin' ya—"

There was something exceedingly annoying about the fact that N could not, in the relative privacy of his own head, deny that Triton had a point. Noah had commented on it too just this morning, telling him that he had forgotten how to hang out with people, and he'd been right about it. But if either of them thought relearning would entail hanging out with Triton, they were sorely mistaken.

"I'm on patrol," he said. "It is hardly the time to loosen up, as you would know if you'd ever been in the habit of taking your duties seriously."

"If ya hadn't made yerself so scarce I'd've talked to ya in the castletown, ya know."

That, of course, missed the point by kilometri. "What do you want," N said. "Out with it. Don't waste my time."

"Aaah, see, me old noggin' ain't workin' so well anymore, but I've been thinkin' about some things recently," Triton said. "Figured you might work 'em out better than I could, with that brain o' yours."

It could be worse. Whatever inane questions Triton had probably wouldn't be hard to answer. N examined the grassy hills leading to the shores while waiting for him to continue. He might as well put the moments of silence in between sentences to use for doing his actual work.

"You an' I, we're back in mortal bodies, aye? So that means we're back to agin', doesn't it?"

N's foot slipped on the wet grass and he staggered before catching his balance again.

"Careful, eh? Wouldn't want you to trip and bash yer mortal head open now."

Mortal again. It was such an obvious assertion. His Moebius core was gone, and he'd noticed he grew tired more easily now. Yet, never once had it occurred to him that this—all this, everything in his new life—came with a timer mercilessly ticking forward. To hear the people of the City say it, aging ought to be a joyous process, but the thought of it, of the passage of time inevitably—

"Well, at any rate, I thought about that an' it came to me a few days ago..."

Was it fortunate that Triton didn't have the awareness to know when to stay silent? N couldn't tell. The words jarred him out of the thought and he stuffed it away into the recesses of his mind. Locking it away and discarding the key, as he had so often. Later. He would think about it later.

"I'm pretty old already, see?" Triton continued. "An' I wonder how long I have left. Kinda hard to say for sure, but I reckon it can't be that much."

He sounded too casual about the end of his life. Why would someone who had chosen to become Moebius speak about death so flippantly? They'd all to a man clung to life with everything they had.

"Why did you come to talk to me? I can't help you prolong your life." N didn't look at Triton as he spoke.

"Aye, but that's not what I wanted to ask anyhow. See, I asked that Gray fella about what the cityfolk usually do when they get to my age, on account of I never got around to askin' when I lived there—"

Triton had lived in the city?

N grabbed ahold of the surprise he felt. Surprise at something unrelated was good. How on earth had that come to pass? He could ask Noah—should ask Noah—would ask Noah, he determined.

"—an' he said to revisit my roots. Only, it's a bit hard to do that now, innit? 's not like I remember the life I led before all that Intersection stuff happened. So," Triton finished, "what I wanted to ask was, d'you perchance remember anything about my roots?"

Huh?

N covered up for his lack of response by bending down and pretending to study an animal track, though he could see at a glance that it was just an eks footprint in the soil. "Why would you ask me about that?" he asked a moment later. "You became Moebius before me, and we barely ever met in our lives before then."

"Y'see, me noggin' doesn't work so well so I forgot almost all about those days! I couldn't tell you which colonies I used to live in or what I did there, for the most part. Me crew's great, but they can't very well tell me anything about that. I know we had that fancy pants Moebius database even if I didn't remember how to use it anymore, so I was wonderin' if you knew anything from there."

The Moebius database... In hindsight, it must have been part of Origin's database, appropriated by Z who had given them exclusive access. Certainly there might have been something on Triton, N remembered finding tidbits on himself, but when he tried to conjure up any memories, he came up short. "I recall nothing," he said.

"That so? Pity." Triton didn't sound all that heartbroken about it, though. As they entered the sandy shores proper, he strode past N and came to a halt in front of the water's edge lapping at the sands. He didn't make any attempt to keep the conversation going. N saw no reason to do so either, and so he simply turned to the left to check the shores for monster activity.

The sun curved across the sky as he went and found nothing, once again. The piranhax populations seemed content to stay well into the open ocean where they wouldn't run across people, and the igna that Melia said sometimes tried to establish themselves too close to the city weren't making themselves known either. It was strange to settle in a new place and find it so pacified. In the colonies, moving always entailed clearing the perimeter first.

By the time he finished his round, Triton still stood where he'd left him. The fact that the water now covered his shoes didn't seem to bother him at all. "The sea's a marvellous thing, isn't it?" he said when N came into earshot.

"It's just water."

"Ye don't got any sense of romance, that's yer problem. Back when I still had me Ferronis I'd always watch the sea from its helm, aye..."

That was what all the joyriding had been for? Consuls had held a measure of authority when deciding where to position the colonies they were assigned to, but it was expected to check in with their High Consuls to ensure they didn't disrupt any important plans. Triton, of course, had never bothered with that.

N turned and gazed out at the sea as well. The late afternoon sun made the waves glisten. It was pretty enough, he supposed, but whatever draw Triton found in it, he couldn't see it.

"I s'pose the sea's my root," Triton said. "Might not have been my origin, but who's ta say a root must be the same as an origin, eh?" Then he sighed. "I dunno how to operate these fancy pants autonomous ship things in the port though. All I can do is watch it from afar now."

A root didn't have to be the origin? Then what was it supposed to be?

N pondered the question on the way back to keep his mind focused, but without ever coming to a conclusion.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Noah said as he pulled the final plate out of the sink.

N felt his fingers tighten around the bowl he was drying off and forced his hands to relax. Seven words, and the emotions he'd locked away earlier in the day already bubbled back to the surface. Making and subsequently eating a bad dinner had been distraction enough, but now...

"N," Noah said.

"Sorry. You're right. Just... just give me a moment." As he finished drying the bowl, he poked at the words he might use to explain. He had to, he knew that he had to, but the urge to bottle it all up and live on in self-inflicted ignorance was overpowering. All it took was telling a lie, making Noah think it was something else that bothered him, something far less frightening, and...

...and even if Noah bought the lie, which he wouldn't, that would never work. The facade of comfortable ignorance had shattered. He couldn't go back to it. Shouldn't want to go back to it, either.

"Triton ambushed me out in the fields," he began haltingly. "Some of the things he said..."

He looked down at the bowl. Water still dripped from it, and he dabbed at it with the towel. The words were right there, before his inner ear. He could say them. He had to say them. He'd promised not to run away anymore.

"If you don't want to tell me that's—"

"No," N said. "No, I want to. I just..."

Noah came over to him then, putting dry hands still warm from the dish water on his shoulder. "Take your time. It's alright."

"How can I when that's the exact problem?"

The words had come out more forcefully than he'd wanted to. Noah's hand twitched on his shoulder. He took a deep breath and, forcing himself to speak calmly, continued, "What he said... it reminded me that this—all of this is going to end sooner or later. No matter what we do, I..."

Again the words lodged themselves in his throat, refusing to come out like some spiky, malevolent thing that had driven its spines into his body. Spark it all, it shouldn't be this hard to simply speak. This was beneath him. Noah would—

—wrap his arms around him from behind and hold him.

For a moment, N froze, couldn't so much as draw breath. But why be so startled? Noah standing so close behind him, his chest warm against his back, felt good. It was nothing more than an echo of the time they'd been one, but even that echo held a certain power. He forced himself to relax and take a shaky breath, but Noah spoke up before he could.

"It's scary," he said. "I know. It scares me too." N felt him shrug, slowly, awkwardly. "You're not the only one who's been hiding it."

And what a magnificent job he was doing at it, then. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better," N said.

"I'm not. I suppose it's just harder for you. I've never... I've lost people dear to me, but not the way you did. Not over and over again. I'd feel more scared of experiencing that all over again too, if I were you."

In moments like this, N felt glad that he no longer wore his armour. The casual clothing let him feel Noah in a way he could never have as Moebius, and that turned words he might have otherwise suspected to be insincere into a balm. With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes. "I don't want to be Moebius anymore."

"We're all a little bit Moebius, every one of us. It's natural. What's important is not letting it rule you."

That was a conclusion N didn't remember Noah making. It must have happened after he'd separated from Noah in the otherworldly maelstrom that Z had become at the end. Or was it just a comforting lie he'd made up on the spot? It was difficult to imagine anyone less Moebius than Noah.

At times, the thought that they were truly the same person felt ridiculous to even consider.

"I thought back then that I wouldn't have to deal with this anymore," he whispered. He could feel Noah's shoulders rising and falling as he breathed—the tangible proof that right here, right now, he was alive. It should be enough for N. It had to be enough.

It wasn't enough.

"I know," Noah said quietly. "I'm sorry. I wish I could make it better."

"I'm worrying you, aren't I?" N shook his head. "It's as I said, I won't... I want to keep going. I want to walk this world with you, and... and see Mio again one day."

If they could re-establish contact with Alrest before it was too late.

"I know," Noah repeated. "I don't mean to doubt you, just—"

N placed a hand over Noah's, rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand. "Who could blame you? It must have been hard on you too. Don't be me—don't pretend you're fine when you're not. If you need reassurance, come to me."

"Alright," Noah said. "And... thank you."

They settled down on the couch after that, sitting close by one another. Looking Noah in the face made it harder still to speak, but N would do it. He had to do it, he wanted to do it, and he would.

"Funny, isn't it?" Noah said. "Not too long ago we were at each other's throats, and now we sit here, side by side... I don't mind," he added hastily. "I just never imagined we'd get here."

"I guess becoming one with another person changes your perspective." N paused. "I enjoyed existing like that, you know. Being one with you felt good. I wouldn't have minded continuing it until the end."

He—they—hadn't been afraid, then. Grieving, yes, from his half of their shared consciousness, carrying uncountable lifetimes of hurt, but also full of hope. Noah, buoyed by winning him over, had been confident enough to simply... move past it. To persist in the face of abject despair, against all odds.

Existing like that had been easier. They hadn't thought of endings, then. Only of new beginnings.

But wasn't wishing for that state of being a form of suicidal ideation as well? Though he had retained a sliver of awareness that he was his own person, the larger part of his consciousness had been suffused in Noah. Ceasing to be a distinct individual—becoming attached to someone else… Easier, perhaps, but he couldn't keep taking the easy way out.

"But I'm me now," he finished belatedly. "And even if it's hard, I want to find out what it means to be me, in this world."

Noah smiled at that, radiant and warm, and N couldn't help but smile back.

"Are you feeling better?" Noah asked.

"Yeah. Do you?"

Noah nodded.

Then he'd done something right, at least. Still, as the conversation fizzled out into a sense of quiet contentment, it left N with the question of what to do with the rest of the evening. There was the bookshelf, snug against the wall and loaded with books, but these weren't his. Maybe one day he'd be able to bring himself to crack them open, but not now. Not today. The kitchen was already tidy, and there was only so much cleaning one could otherwise do, at least without entering the bedroom.

Passing the time, it turned out, was another thing he'd forgotten how to do over the years.

"Do you mind if I play?" Noah looked over to the shelf, where his flute rested—the red and black one, not the one he'd gotten from Mio. That one was over in Alrest now.

"Not at all," N said. Then, as Noah rose and went to fetch the flute, he decided to be honest. "I'd love to listen... I thought you might not want to play in front of me, though."

Noah stilled, hand wrapped around the flute, his back facing N. "That's not it. I haven't played in front of others at all since the Separation. With all the feelings wrapped up in this flute..."

"You had to untangle them first."

"Truth be told, I don't think I'm anywhere near done with that, but..." Noah exhaled. "Well, I'll do it anyway."

"If you'd rather test the waters with someone else—"

"Shush," was all Noah said before going to rinse out his mouth.

Shush. Well, Noah had been the one to bring it up. As weird as it felt, if that was what he wanted, who was N to disagree?

Noah put the glass of water down, raised the flute to his mouth and placed his hands on the holes with tried and practised ease. Then the first note echoed through the room, soothing as a summer breeze. N settled back against the couch. It wasn't the evening pastime he'd imagined, insofar as he'd imagined anything, but it felt... nice.

The melody Noah played was one he hadn't heard before, distinct from the one he'd been humming. It was a melancholy tune, ebbing and flowing through the notes at a languid pace. N had little experience with music, but it felt as if longing had been shaped into sound.

Was Noah improvising this?

It wasn't news that he improvised, he'd even told N as much before, but to come up with a melody so perfectly encapsulating the mood on the fly and performing it without ever flubbing... N gazed at him in wonder. The true depth of Noah's mastery had clearly eluded him until now.

And what a sight to behold he was as well, gently swaying back and forth as his fingers danced across the flute with incredible precision—the kind that only came from endless dedicated practice. N had reached that level with the sword out of sheer necessity, but never with anything he'd picked up of his own volition. What hobbies he'd used to have, he hadn't pursued to this level. It was enough to make him feel jealous—but moreso to fill him with admiration for Noah.

Maybe one day he'd find something of his own to dedicate his time to. Maybe it would even help with the fear, as it seemed to have with Noah.

N could have listened to Noah's playing for the rest of the evening, but of course it had to come to an end eventually. All too soon Noah lowered his flute, having brought the melody to a conclusion. The way he glanced at N after that—was it expectant? Apprehensive?

"You're excellent," N said, and immediately cringed inwardly. Such a trite statement—Noah knew how skilled he was himself...

But Noah only beamed in response. "Thank you. Hearing you say that means a lot."

How could he sound so relieved? His talent was breathtaking. He had no reason to doubt himself. But N held his tongue, not wanting to start an argument. Not during this peaceful time together.

They lingered for a time after that, not speaking much but nonetheless enjoying each other's presence, as Noah gently cleaned his flute and N—watched him, in between glances at the bookshelf he couldn't bring himself to peruse yet.

It was only when he returned from the bathroom that his gaze fell on the framed photo of the couple that had lived here, and he thought to himself:

Couldn't they send them off?

But Noah had already settled down on his side of the sofa. There was no point in bothering him now. He could ask in the morning, or later that day if he once again left early.

Would it look the same as an off-seeing in Aionios?

Would it be easier if it did?

Chapter Text

N didn't even make it out of the city before being ambushed this cold and windy morning several weeks after his conversation with Triton.

"Heeey, head honcho!" Ashera hollered as she walked over to him, then clapped him on the shoulder hard enough that he would have staggered if he hadn't learned how to keep steady on his feet long ago.

"Stop calling me that," he said, as always; and as always, Ashera soundly ignored him and circled him with the intensity of a predator prowling for a hunk of meat.

"You've been making yourself too scarce, you know that? I'd have understood if you were helping Her Wingness with ruling over this place, but—"

"Absolutely not."

"—I'm almost hurt you didn't come to see me after all the time we spent together!"

N was no longer her superior. He no longer had the authority to discipline her. Noah wouldn't approve of it. Her Majesty wouldn't approve of it. Mio, if she were here, wouldn't approve of it. Spark, did he want to do it anyway. Some old habits died hard; this one left him with his fingers twitching for something to do to make her shut up.

"Did you want something?" he asked. Ashera would pick up on his total lack of enthusiasm and ignore that as well.

"Don't you think it's been terribly boring since Aionios vanished?"

"You're insane."

Ashera clapped him on the shoulder a second time. "Aw, don't be like that," she said. "You've been going on patrols day in, day out. You're spoiling for a fight too, eh? And I reckon you haven't found much worth your time, either."

"I don't want to find anything worth my time out there. Nor am I helping you find anything."

"What? No, I don't want you to find anything." Ashera poked him in the chest. Not wearing armour anymore meant that he felt her fingertip dig into his skin through the fabric. "I want to fight you, o headiest of honchos."

In hindsight, he should have seen it coming. Not that it would have helped him any. How had Noah put up with this woman? Had he not been annoyed by her incessant attempts at picking fights with everything that so much as breathed around her?

"I'm not interested," he said flatly as he circumvented her and continued on his way out of the city. "Find someone else to play with."

Of course, nothing was ever this easy. Ashera came after him, chipper as could be. Much like Triton, no amount of fast walking would dissuade her. Unlike Triton, he didn't trust her not to interfere with the patrol if left to her own devices. It would be just like her to sabotage a battle he wandered into just for the dubious fun of it.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he contemplated the consequences of siccing her on Noah, who had beaten him fair and square and was thus the stronger one between them. Once again, the thought was a sparking temptation. Just point her at someone else! He could rid himself of the annoyance so easily! But no, that was the coward's way out.

Being Moebius had been so much easier.

He came to a halt right in Ashera's path, nearly causing her to bump into him. "If you swear to leave me be after this," he said, "I'll indulge you, once."

Ashera cheerfully clapped her hands. "I knew you'd see reason!"

After all that Noah and countless others had done to bring peace, she called picking a fight seeing reason. How deeply disrespectful of the legacy of those who had lain down their lives to bring forth the original worlds anew. But she was a survivor of Aionios. He was part of the old elite. What she thought weighed heavier in this matter.

Either way, there was no way out of it now, and so he stifled a sigh and asked, "Did you have a place in mind?"

"Why, we can go at it right here and now—"

"That's—"

"—if not for the fact that Melia had some carefully chosen words for me that I found extraordinarily convincing. So let's go find a place!"

And with that, Ashera dragged him off towards the wilderness, leaving him to wonder just how the queen had managed to wrangle even her into submission.

"Right here," Ashera announced. "This is perfect."

The rocky shore looked perfectly ordinary to N, but who was he to question her logic? It was all the same to him anyway. "First blood?" he asked as he drew his sword. Noah had handed it to him the day prior, saying that Riku had commandeered the forges to craft weapons closer to what they'd grown used to. It felt familiar and that was a good thing, but it let him with mixed feelings.

If Ashera felt the same way as he did about her weapon, she didn't show it. There wasn't the slightest hint of hesitation in the way she grasped her twin sabres.

"First blood?" She laughed. "Really? I'd have expected you to battle to the death! What happened to your edge, hm?"

"Maybe I lost it when I died."

And maybe something in his tone finally got through to her. Though it was with a pronounced pout, she said, "Alright, alright. First blood it is."

And then she charged, blades whirling, and though N was able to sidestep her, it was closer than he liked. Without the superhuman reflexes being Moebius had afforded him, Ashera was an actual threat to more than his nerves now.

The fact that that surprised him had some unsavoury implications, N reflected in the split-second of lull. Then Ashera angled her blades and he met them with his own sword and there was no more leisure to think.

Ashera's mad cackling echoed across the shore as N wove in between her strikes. From the left, from the right, spinning her blades in a dizzying circle—it was a relentless flurry of attacks. With her reckless haste she left herself open time and again, but that selfsame speed prevented him from punishing her for it.

He had no intention of falling to such sloppiness, however.

Ashera swiped at his legs. He leapt, just high enough to clear the edge, and then landed on the blade as she pulled it away. It was a balancing act not to topple; but if he had anything, it was rock-solid balance. Dragged down by his weight, the tip of the sword dug into the rocks covering the shore, and N swung his own sword—

—and Ashera's blades came apart, leaving her to retreat with one half of it.

He hooked his foot under the remaining half's grip and kicked it up into his free hand. He wasn't adept at dual wielding, but he wouldn't let Ashera take it back.

None of this made Ashera back off. She gripped her half of the blade with both hands and advanced on him again, laughing. "Now that is the edge I wanted to see! Come now! Have at it!"

"You talk too much." N angled his own sword so that her next strike slid aside and then failed to capitalise on the opening when his blade didn't cut right through hers. He didn't have the Sword of Origin anymore. He couldn't forget that.

Ashera, thus undeterred, spun around and came at him from the other side. Like a viper she struck, he sidestepped the blade swinging at his head and she withdrew before he could retaliate, only to dart back in a moment later. She wanted him on the defence. He wouldn't let her force his hand.

The next time she tried her little swing-and-switch, he threw the stolen sword at her on the backstep. She was too quick on her feet to get hit, but that didn't matter. All he needed was a second's worth of distraction. She caught the sword as he stepped in. They both swung. He could feel the air rushing past his face as his own sword made contact with her cheek. When he pulled it away, there was a trickle of blood on the edge.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Ashera grinned broadly. "Got a lock of your hair at least," she crowed.

N looked to the side. There was indeed a lock of his hair lying on the rocks, though the sea breeze swiftly dispersed it. "Are you satisfied now?" he asked.

"Aren't you?" Ashera clicked the two halves of her sword together and placed it on her back before wiping the blood off her cheek. It wasn't a deep wound. A spot of healing would get rid of it right quick.

"I'm—" N started, then cut himself off.

Was he?

"So satisfied you can't find the words?" Ashera elbowed him, full force.

"Stop that."

Ashera cackled as she walked away. "If you change your mind on doing this again," she called over her shoulder, "give me a call, yes?"

He wanted to tell her that she was a maniac, that nobody in their right mind would agree to fight now that they no longer had to—but he had to consider that maybe he wasn't in his right mind either, given he hadn't found it in himself to rebuke her. Maybe Aionios had sunk its claws into him so deeply that even now it didn't relinquish him. Was that it? Were they both stuck in Aionios within their own minds, never able to leave for good?

He didn't know what to think, so he shelved the subject and went about his patrol as he normally would have. Maybe Noah would know.

Or maybe, Queen forbid, he would actually be able to figure something out by himself for once.

And then he ended up wandering over to Valdi's workshop instead of coming to a conclusion. That was alright, wasn't it? Valdi had said he wanted him to come back. He could help here. It wasn't running away if he was doing something for others, right?

Right?

"Oh, hi!" Valdi said when he opened the door, cheerful as ever. "Your timing's great, I was actually going to go ask you for help one of these days..." And then he pulled N inside, leaving him unable to walk away and pursue the issue at hand.

Coward, he thought, swallowing the bitterness.

"So," Valdi started, "I've been trying to figure out how to do the soil analysis—I finished the locomotion, by the way, still a bit bumpy but I can work with it—I've never really had the chance to do anything like this in Aionios so I'm stoked to work on it, but the tools I have here don't function like I expect them to, so could we look at them together?"

The workbench Valdi tugged him towards was every bit as disastrous as it had been on N's previous visit. Tools lay strewn about, haphazardly stacked on top of each other, and half-assembled components were scattered in between the stacks. To his credit, Valdi scratched the back of his head and said, "Sorry about that. I didn't think you'd stop by, so I didn't clean up..."

"I see," was all N had the energy to say.

Undeterred by his lack of enthusiasm, Valdi continued, "I went and got some books on measuring this stuff, and I think I narrowed it down to the best method for our use case. You can calculate the water content of soil samples by weighing them wet and dry but you can't really do continuous measurements like that, so what we should do is use capacitors..."

N listened in silence as Valdi laid down the specifics of employing electromagnetic fields to measure soil moisture levels. It wasn't something he'd ever had to work with; the colonies hadn't been meant to farm in the first place and he'd never been in charge of centralised food production, so it hadn't come up. What Valdi said sounded reasonable from what he understood of physics, though. Or did it? He couldn't bring himself to focus fully.

"And the problem is," Valdi concluded, "that the way these capacitors work is just a bit weird. I haven't been able to integrate them."

"I see," N repeated. "And I assume you want to look at them together?"

"That's the idea!"

N took the capacitor Valdi handed him and turned it over in his hands. Valdi had disassembled the outer casing, leaving the components in plain sight. Two metal plates separated by a dielectric insulating them, of a material N didn't recognise on sight. Charge connectors. What did Valdi expect him to say about it? It was a capacitor. N was no engineer and had seldom worked directly with machine components, but nothing about it looked out of the ordinary to him.

The silence stretched. N stared at the capacitor. Valdi stared at him. There was no sound at all in the workshop. Nothing moved either, save for N's thumb pointlessly flicking at the back of the capacitor.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Valdi eventually asked.

How easy it would be to simply say no; everything was alright, he was simply contemplating the capacitor to grasp what made it different from those they'd used in Aionios. Like the coward he no longer wanted to be.

He glanced at Valdi, who looked back at him with no hint of malice or duplicity. Sharing his concerns with a child who was better with machines than with people seemed utterly futile. What could Valdi possibly say that would make anything better? He was nothing more than a lowly colony soldier, even if he'd somehow made it to commander status.

Or so the remnants of Moebius within N said, and it was that thought that pushed him to nod, even if it was slowly and hesitantly. "I'm troubled," he started, only to be interrupted by Valdi snatching the dismantled capacitor from his hand and tugging him towards the chairs and table lined up against one of the workshop walls.

"You should have said something," Valdi scolded. "I don't want to talk at you about capacitors when you're not up for it!"

"Why? I came to help."

"If it turns out you're not up for helping after all we gotta fix that first then, right?"

Logic that was hard to argue with. N plopped down on the chair opposite of Valdi's. "I met Ashera today. She cajoled me into a fight..."

Valdi grimaced. "Probably should have warned you about that. She came by a few days ago, saying that she was bored out of her mind. She didn't directly say that she wanted to pick a fight with you, but when she asked after you I should have put two and two together. Sorry about that."

How peculiar. Valdi had no responsibility of ensuring no annoyances befell N. "I've known her for longer than you," N said. "I should have seen it coming."

"Huh?"

"She lived on my doorstep. Did you think she never found a way to insert herself into my life? Besides," N said, "she's always had a knack for somehow getting herself appointed to commander, queen knows how..."

"Ohhh, right," Valdi said. "I keep forgetting you're way old. Sounds like you have some fond memories, yeah?"

Fond? Why in the world would he feel fond of an incessant annoyance like Ashera? She had ever been a thorn in his side, a pointless distraction from his duties, an onerous burden that had pulled him away from spending time with M so often...

He frowned, leaning back on the chair. It had all annoyed him terribly at the time, but with the awareness he now held, maybe that had been the reason he'd put up with it instead of resorting to drastic deterrence measures. A distraction from woes he hadn't realised he'd had—much like today had been, in a way.

"N?"

"I'm thinking. Give me a moment."

Valdi obliged; in truth, though, there really wasn't much more N could ponder over. He wasn't going to thank Ashera, seeing how she certainly hadn't had his wellbeing in mind when she'd opted to be a pest. Still, maybe he would keep this in mind for when she'd come hassle him about having another fight, something he had no doubt she would do despite her promise.

"At any rate," he said after another moment, "I won, of course, but afterwards, I..."

Even now, the words wouldn't come. Pathetic.

"Good workout?" Valdi asked.

"What?"

"Well, I haven't heard anything about you running into anything bad out there so it must have been lots of hiking and nothing much else, right? Seems like sparring would be a good way to keep sharp. Really clears the mind, doesn't it?" Valdi stopped. "But I guess that's not what you wanted to talk about. Sorry."

"No, that's..." N fixed his gaze on the table. "That is what concerned me."

"Huh," Valdi said. "Why's that?"

Credit to Valdi: He seemed content to wait while N sorted through his thoughts and formed them into coherent sentences. "We—you—all had to fight and fight and fight, over and over again, having it eat away at the self until—it's wrong to enjoy that now that we no longer have to, surely." He exhaled. "Surely that isn't the world we want to build."

"Sorry," Valdi said. "I just don't really see the issue. It's not like either of you were forced into it, and it cleared your head and Ashera enjoyed it..."

He made it sound so simple—enough that it seemed impossible to argue with. N shook his head, but couldn't muster up the words to refute what he said.

"I mean, ask Noah. I know he's been sparring with Lanz every now and then. I guess you didn't notice?"

Didn't notice... or Noah hadn't wanted him to know. "I didn't," N said. "Nor did I expect him to." Noah hadn't liked fighting, hadn't liked hurting people. The same had been true for N once, even if he'd done his best to kill that part of himself in the long years as Moebius. It ought to startle him more than it already did how easily he'd slipped back into combat mindset. And Noah had been doing it on purpose, of his own volition?

Something to ask him about.

"I don't think you need to feel concerned," Valdi said. "You didn't do anything bad."

"What a profoundly ridiculous thing to say." Profoundly ridiculous to even come to Valdi in the first place. In the end, perhaps that made N the ridiculous one. "I'm leaving," he said.

"Ah... sorry. That was probably insensitive—"

"No," N interrupted. "I need time to think. That's all."

"Okay. But hey, feel free to come by if I can help, yeah? Even if it's just to chat. We don't have to work on my project..."

"Why?"

Valdi cocked his head. "What do you mean, why? I can't exactly ask you for help without offering it in return, can I?"

He could very easily, in fact. N was no stranger to the transactionality of using others for help. He'd done it. Others had done it to him. Being helped hadn't been part of his reasoning for agreeing to Valdi's request. What did he, out of all people, need help for anyway? He was N, golden head consul of Keves—

—but that didn't exist anymore, and he didn't want to be Moebius N anymore, and maybe he did need help, no matter how much it might gall to ask this... child for it.

"I will ask if I need anything," he forced himself to say. The insincerity left a bitter taste in his mouth, but maybe that was how it had to start: by simply pretending he could still act like he had well over a thousand years ago.

If Valdi picked up on it, he didn't comment. He just saw him off to the gates of his workshop, bid him goodbye and reiterated his offer. N shrugged in response, not sure what to say. What a bizarre child.

Then, as he turned to leave, a thought occurred to him, and the memory of his earlier conversation with Triton.

"Do you know how to build boats, Valdi?" he asked.

"Noah," N said after they'd finished their dinner (seared to a crisp, somehow still edible).

"What is it?"

"Valdi told me earlier that you spar with Lanz. Is that true?"

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

Why did he ask, indeed. Noah could do whatever he wanted to, just like everyone else in this world. They were no longer forced to abide by a system pushing them into a desperate struggle for life and death.

But he, N, he wasn't like that, was he?

"I find myself troubled," he said. "It's too easy to slip back into old mindsets."

As always, Noah's response was not one of worry or fear, as part of N felt it should have been. It was equal parts reassuring and unnerving how much he seemed to trust N, even now that they could no longer see each other's minds. But rather than expressing doubts that would be only natural to have, Noah pulled his chair around the dining table so that he sat right next to N and peered at him. "Something happened, didn't it?"

Somehow, telling Valdi had been easier than this. Maybe the fear of disappointing Noah was that much stronger. "Why do we keep fighting?" he asked in lieu of an answer. "It's one thing to defend against the wildlife, but between us, fighting one another..."

He stared at this hands. All the killing he'd done, and still he picked up a weapon so easily. It hadn't occurred to him when he'd started going on patrols, but maybe it ought to have concerned him even then.

"It's fun," Noah said.

N's head snapped up.

Noah scratched the back of his head. "It sounds weird when you put it that way, doesn't it? But now that we don't have to kill each other to survive anymore, it's just... a test of skill. Flexing your body, seeing how good you can get. Nobody gets hurt and we walk away satisfied. I don't think there's anything wrong with that."

"And do you think the child that... that we used to be would have felt that way?" The question lay heavy on N's tongue. They hadn't broached the subject in all this time. From what he could tell, most of the other ex-soldiers had avoided looking into the person they had been before the Intersection as well.

Somewhere in this city was that child's home, left empty after they'd stolen his future. It wasn't N's fault—even he was not so arrogant to accept blame for the Intersection—but the weight of it all tugged at his shoulders nonetheless.

"Maybe, maybe not," Noah said. "We're not him and he's not us. We can't compare ourselves to a child who's never known war, N."

And yet, did he not owe it to that child, that Noah, to emulate whom he would have become? He would have been a better person than N, that much was certain.

In the end, he simply shook his head. "I should have found it more difficult to raise my sword against someone else." He flexed his hand, the one that had gripped the sword handle just a few hours ago. "What if I also end up finding it easy to use it when it isn't... safe?"

"If you do," Noah said, "I'll just stop you again. Simple as that."

N's breath hitched, though it didn't seem that Noah had noticed. He'd stop him. Simple as that—simple as ending the world if it held their lives back. They'd succeeded at that. Stopping him if he went astray again was trivial by comparison. It felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders, hearing it put into words. "Thank you," he said.

Oddly, Noah seemed embarrassed by his words. His gaze drifted aside. "I said I wanted you to walk this world with us," he said. "And now that you're here, I have a responsibility to make sure you can..."

"You have no responsibilities towards me." On a whim, N reached out and took his hand, which felt warm in his palm. "Nor do you owe me anything. If you want to leave me to my troubles, you have every right to."

"Oh, shut up. You know that's not what this is about."

N looked at their intertwined hands. He did, didn't he? He'd seen into Noah's heart. He wouldn't have stayed by his side if he hadn't genuinely wanted to. Yet, as good as that realisation felt, it left him bereft of words. I don't deserve this? Or perhaps thank you? All of those options felt insufficient.

Thankfully, Noah once again spared him the need to come up with something. "That's why I wanted to show you something," he said. "Would you come with me?"

"You know you don't need to ask."

Noah stood up and headed over to the drawer, upon which his flute rested. He picked it up with one hand—then opened the drawer with the other, retrieving a second off-seer's flute, this one lacquered in brilliant blue.

"This was Crys'," Noah said. "After he died, I kept it. As a memento, I suppose." He weighed the flute in his hand for a moment before holding it out to N. "Here. I want you to have it."

"Why? He was your friend, not mine." N had spoken to Crys on certain occasions; it was inevitable, given that he'd been his superior. They hadn't been friends, though. As a matter of fact, N had felt that Crys hadn't liked him very much back then.

"He'd find it appropriate. Besides, an instrument nobody plays is a sad thing."

Noah wanted him to play it? It certainly looked in good enough repair, as far as he could tell, but... "I've never played the flute before," he said.

"I can teach you. Unless you really don't want to, then—"

"No! No, that's not it, I just..." N stared at the flute. He could do it, if he wanted to. He'd retained enough memories of Noah learning to play that it shouldn't be too difficult. All it would take was picking up the flute and putting it to his mouth. "Why do you want me to?" he asked instead, like the coward he was.

"I just thought... being an off-seer changed me for the better. If you—"

"I'm no off-seer." The words tumbled out of N's mouth, almost tripping over each other. It was unseemly to speak like that, yet he couldn't help it.

"Yeah. But do you have to be one to play?"

"That's—I—it's an off-seeing flute. How can I—" And as his voice cracked, N decided that he'd had enough with the stammering. Hadn't they established that talking to each other was good? And here he was, discarding it all over again. He took a deep breath and continued, "With all the meaning imbued in these flutes, how could I consider it after... after everything?"

Noah closed his hand around the flute again, but didn't pull it away. "Since you reappeared along with the rest of us, you haven't done much other than going on patrol, housework and tinkering with Valdi. I know you've been avoiding others more often than not, too. I want you to have things you can do that aren't work or cooking." He fell silent again, but the way he hunched up his shoulders told N that that wasn't all.

"There's more to it," N said. "Do you want to... talk about it?"

Noah looked down at the flute, then at his own in his other hand. A few more seconds ticked by before he spoke up again. "Off-seeing is part of Aionios. Part of me. I'll never stop being an off-seer. But this world... off-seeing can't stay the same here. I want to find ways for it to evolve, become a part of who we are now, not just of whom we've been. Teaching you feels like the right step in that. Besides," he added a moment later, "I miss playing with someone I'm close to."

A way for off-seeing to evolve... N shook his head. "You know I looked down on it." Meaningless fweeting, he'd called it once. What did playing the flute accomplish, anyway? The dead were still dead. The burden on the living hadn't grown any lighter. It was useless twaddle that would never amount to anything. And Noah wanted him, of all people, to carry the weight of that legacy?

"Without attachment to it, you're in the perfect position to imbue it with meaning of your own. I won't ask for anything specific either. Just play, see how you like it, and if it's not for you I'll find someone else to take the flute. Okay?"

Simple as that. Again.

When N reached out for the flute, he half-expected Noah to pull it away at the last moment only to say that he'd been wrong, that this was wrong... but he didn't, so N closed his fingers around the flute and picked it up. It felt so light in his grasp. He'd thought these flutes weighed heavier.

Noah smiled and clasped his own black and red flute in both hands. The one he had used near the end of Aionios had vanished along with everything else that was of Agnus. There was a melancholy in his eyes whenever he looked at the Kevesi flute, but he hadn’t complained even once. "Rinse your mouth, come sit with me and I'll teach you."

So he did.

"I remember the lessons you had," N said after settling down again, as he put the mouthpiece to his lips. Blow over the hole, not into it, Crys had told Noah...

He blew. The only sound that could be heard was the soft fffffft of his breath.

Frowning, he lowered the flute. Was it defective?

His frown deepened when Noah laughed. "Don't worry—everyone struggles with that at first, it's perfectly normal. I did too, remember?"

"Stop laughing at me." But he did remember Crys waiting patiently as Noah had tried different angles, different lip positions, different breath pressures until he'd finally gotten his first shaky note out. Why, then, couldn't he replicate how Noah had managed it as a child?

"I guess memory is no substitute for practice," Noah said, annoyingly cheerful. "Well? Surely you won't give up so soon?"

As if.

Still frowning, N raised the flute to his lips again and tried a different angle.

Living for a thousand years and then some came with an enormous accumulation of skills he'd deemed relevant or useful, even as others atrophied. Over time, he'd come to excel not merely at fighting, but also at logistics, project management, warfare and a vast array of other subjects. Failure had become scarce. Now, being defeated by this piece of lacquered wood left a sour taste in his mouth. He knew the physics behind how the sound was created by airflow. It shouldn't be this hard.

Frustrated, he shook his head. "Why does it look so easy when you do it?" It was a petulant question and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself. Noah put the mouthpiece to his lips and coaxed clean, crisp notes from it as if it was nothing and here he was, blowing until he was red in the face with zero results. How could he let a mere—

He clamped down on that thought before it could finish forming in his mind.

Noah, seemingly unaware of the turn N's thoughts had taken, shrugged. "Seven years of daily practice, give or take a few. You've grown complacent in being good at what you do, haven't you?"

N looked away. "I suppose."

"Then it's a good thing you're struggling with it, right?"

There was no malice in the words; not that Noah tended towards that in general. Sometimes N found himself wishing he did, just a little bit. "What do you mean?" he asked. "You wanted someone to play alongside with, didn't you? I can't do that if I'm struggling to get a sound out."

"Growing complacent like that," Noah said as if he hadn't heard the last part, "it's the same as standing still, isn't it? You don't learn. You don't grow. You just stay in place. Struggling with something you've never even attempted while you were Moebius—isn't that a sign you're moving on?"

To put so much meaning onto the intangible concept of playing a simple note... N would have decried it as foolish. Even if he were to get the note out, it was such an ephemeral thing. It would end the moment he put the flute down, with nothing in place to show that it had existed at all.

The fact that he was trying at all now meant something, didn't it?

He wanted so badly for it to mean something.

The frustration over struggling with something even children could do hadn't abated when he continued his attempts. He pushed past those feelings and tried, and tried, and tried, turning the flute over in his hands, tensing his lips in different ways, this angle, that angle—

—and then a shaky note echoed through the room and cut off just as abruptly when N, startled, stopped blowing.

"Congratulations," Noah said, smiling.

And for the first time in many, many years, N felt a glimmer of genuine pride.

Chapter Text

"Greetings," Segiri asked. "This unit—that is, I—would like to ask a favour of you."

The girl had caught him in the outskirts of New Alcamoth. N had never met personally, as he'd never been involved with the Colony 0 project, but he remembered her from Noah's memories. Less of a hassle than Ashera and Triton, but even so, it would be nice to head out without being bothered by others for once.

"What is it?" he asked anyway. Going on patrol wasn't for his own benefit. He had to remember that. Couldn't fall back into old habits.

"Are you familiar with Ferron technology?"

Ferrons. The name rang true, but he couldn't recall the specifics. He shook his head. "I remember a manufactory within Origin, but nothing beyond that."

"Ah." Segiri's face didn't change, but disappointment tinged her voice. "That is unfortunate. I've inquired with Valdi, the nopon mechanics, Triton and Her Majesty already, but was unable to acquire the knowledge I need."

N glanced towards the city outskirts. In all the time he'd patrolled, no major threats had made themselves known. He could afford some delay. "What is it you need?" he asked.

"This body is young and weak, even if Her Majesty says it is unusually developed for a 'Machina' of my age. As my Ferron disappeared along with Aionios, I am unable to help with settling efforts. That is an unacceptable state." Segiri looked up at him. "However, while we were taught about Ferron maintenance, I do not possess the skills needed to construct a new model from scratch."

Neither did N; neither would anyone else still alive. Colony 0 had been Consul F's pet project, with Y supplying the necessary equipment. N didn't even remember what distinguished a Ferron from a Levnis, and any reports that could have shed light on that were long gone.

Obvious course of action, then. "Tell me about the Ferrons," he said.

They settled down in a nearby park, a small patch of greenery lined with trees amid the houses. Zeon had remarked that the fruits on their branches were edible once they'd fully matured, but that was for another day. The first spring leaves had just started sprouting, after all.

"Ferrons," Segiri started after sitting down on the wooden bench near the entrance, "were single-pilot combat suits providing enhanced capabilities to the user. The weakness of this body did not impede this u—me, leaving me capable of competing with seasoned soldiers on the battlefield. The Ferrons of old ran on our Flame Clocks. That is no longer possible and I experience no desire to return to that power source."

Right; that sounded familiar enough from the reports he'd skimmed over. Sans the Flame Clock, it didn't sound different from a one-man Levnis, though someone as young as her wouldn't have been assigned as pilot for another two terms or so. Levnis construction was too costly to waste them on the inexperienced. "If that's all you need, then why didn't you ask Valdi to build you something like it?" he asked. "He's fully capable of building Levnises."

"Probability of success for this course of action is low. I have proposed construction of a new combat unit to Her Majesty already. She soundly declined the proposal, even though I specified that I did not want to recreate the Flame Clock drive." Again, Segiri's expression didn't change but her disappointment was audible. "It is estimated that Valdi and the other mechanics will follow her orders. The probability of convincing Triton to go against her is markedly higher, but he does not possess the requisite knowledge. Therefore, the best course of action was approaching you."

What did that say about him? She trusted him enough to be in his presence with a total lack of wariness, she thought he knew how to construct combat units... most importantly, she thought he would go against the queen's words.

Would he? Did he want to?

"Did the queen give a reason for her rejection?" he asked. The other question was for later.

"Negative. She remarked that it was unthinkable. I do not comprehend what she meant by this."

Unthinkable, hmm? N leaned back on the bench and tilted his head up, gazing at the canopy. The leaves would come in quickly from here on out, and then the blossoms would join them, turning into fruit later in the year. What would it be like to observe the passage of seasons without having to consider what it meant for the war efforts?

(What would it be like to observe it with full awareness that his clock now ticked towards a final ending?)

"Are you in need of assistance?" Segiri asked.

"What?"

"Minute changes in facial expression indicate the onset of distress. If thi—I can be of assistance in resolving the issue, please provide further information."

There were times N really, truly missed his old mask. "It's fine," he said, and with some luck she wouldn't pick up on the lie. "I had a thought. It had nothing to do with the subject at hand. Do you know what she meant by unthinkable?"

"Negative."

There was a part of N that considered the queen having opinions and thoughts downright strange. The puppet hadn't had anything of the sort. It had acted according to the narrow bounds programmed into it, spoken only the words N had wanted her to. Why ask it anything? Why even pay attention to it when it wasn't necessary?

But the words she'd spoken to Noah, after N had merged with him, those had been true. As had been the ones she'd said to him since they'd all reappeared in this world. They didn't have the warmth with which she addressed others, but who could blame her? She had every right to mistrust him.

It was fine, he'd thought.

The situation necessitated that he get comfortable with approaching her for clarification, but how could he? She would be less amenable to speak with him than with Segiri. No, he couldn't simply walk up to her. A different plan was in order.

"Let's talk to Noah," he said.

Noah had a knack for this kind of situation, after all. Unlike him.

As expected, Noah wasn't home. He'd be out and about at this time, listening to people's problems, finding ways to solve them and helping to keep things running smoothly. Once upon a time, before becoming Moebius, N had done similar. He didn't miss it much, but perhaps he could use those memories to guess where Noah might have gone.

"Probability of N correctly deducing Noah's whereabouts is higher than me doing so," Segiri announced, as if she'd guessed his train of thought. "I await instruction."

N laid a hand against the door. Noah had walked out of it not too long ago. If he were Noah, where would he have gone after that? Whom would he elect to help? In the grand scheme of things N had met many more people than Noah had, but it was still staggering how many contacts Noah had made in such a short life. N closed his eyes, went over the list. Who would struggle the most?

"Let's go check on Ashera's soldiers," he said. Ashera seemed to be doing well enough for the circumstances, but the same wasn't necessarily true of the rest of her posse. Surely Noah would see that ticking time bomb for what it was too.

Segiri nodded, and off they went. Refreshingly, Segiri didn't insist on pointless smalltalk on the way.

The moment she saw them approach, Ashera all but leapt from the lone rickety chair that stood outside of the house she'd moved into along with some of her former subordinates. The others had occupied the homes around hers. N, seeing this quarter for the first time after avoiding Ashera for so long, had half expected it to be in ruins, but the buildings were surprisingly well taken care of.

"Aw, did you change your mind so quickly?" Ashera called in lieu of a greeting. "I knew you'd come around. Who's your new friend? She can take part too. The more the merrier!"

"I am presently not able to fight," Segiri said at the same time as N rolled his eyes and said, "That is a third-termer, Ashera. Don't be ridiculous."

There was a slight but unmistakable pout on Ashera's face when she plopped down on the chair again, which tilted dangerously under her weight. "Aw," she said. "You really are no fun. What did you come here for, then? We don't often get such illustrious guests here, o head honcho."

"Stop calling me that. We're looking for Noah. Do you know where he is?"

"Nope," Ashera said. "He hasn't shown himself here in days either. Shouldn't you know better than anyone else, though? Same person, or whatever your deal was? No mystical psychic connection that tells you his whereabouts?"

He should be so lucky.

When he didn't answer, Ashera shrugged. "Well, I can't help you. What do you need him for, anyway?"

"I made a request of N that he could not fulfill, and he suggested asking Noah," Segiri said. "I did not think to ask you. Are you capable of building a Ferron unit using conventional power sources?"

"Kid, I wouldn't be able to find the start button in a regular Levnis. I never saw the point of wedging myself into a cockpit."

Words a previous incarnation of Ashera had said to him once, almost verbatim. People really didn't change that much throughout their lives, did they?

What did that say about him, then?

"Buuut, since I have nothing better to do right now anyway, why don't I help you search?" Ashera said cheerfully, pulling him out of his train of thought. "Like I said, the more the merrier, eh?"

"Absolutely n—"

"Probability of successful search increases with more participants," Segiri said. "Welcome, Ashera."

"Alright! Then it's settled." Ashera stood up again, kicking the chair over in the process. One of the legs collided with the curb and it snapped clean off. "Where's our merry little band heading to next?"

Both of them looked at him. N stifled a sigh and, blindly guessing, said, "Let's ask Valdi."

Valdi didn't know, but did immediately launch into a speech on his latest success in making his Mechafarmfriend until N cut him short and told him they could talk about that later. Surprisingly, Valdi didn't even seem that disappointed. "Sure," was all he said. "Are you coming by tonight?"

To the tune of Ashera snickering in the background, N said yes, if he had the time. He owed her nothing, certainly no consideration of what she found suitable for him.

Triton said he had no idea, and then invited Ashera to a drinking contest, a spectre so terrifying that N all but dragged her and Segiri away, past Bolearis and Ethel whose cold glares prohibited so much as asking the question. Zeon, tilling a field just outside the city, hadn't seen Noah; neither had Gray, who gave the most monosyllabic answer yet and vanished back into the shadows.

"Man," Ashera commented. "And here I thought you'd know yourself better than that. You really have no idea where he might be, do you?"

"Shut up."

"Fighting among ourselves does not further our progress. Request to stop needling each other."

Glowering at Ashera, N walked on without a further word. He was above petty fights with her, anyway.

"What do you want from Noah that's so urgent, anyway?" Ashera asked, then, after Segiri had finished explaining, said: "And you didn't just go ask Melia because...?"

"Why would we have?" N said.

Ashera looked at him. He looked at Ashera. Segiri looked at him.

"So...?" Ashera eventually prompted.

N threw his arms up. "Fine. If you insist." Likely Melia wouldn't even want to see him, much less entertain any questions he or Segiri might have. They'd see for themselves as soon as they arrived at Keves Castle. They'd talk to her attendant—secretary—whatever it was called in this world, and they'd inquire with the queen about an audience, and the answer would be—

"If you'd wait a few minutes," the attendant said, "she will hear you out soon."

N very pointedly did not look at Ashera while they waited.

The attendant eventually led them in, through corridors that felt intimately familiar, yet simultaneously entirely foreign. Keves Castle had had the same room layout, and many of the elements comprising it even now had been in its Aionios version, but this Alcamoth Castle had an atmosphere completely unlike Keves Castle. Gone was the foreboding aura; no longer did solders and Levnises patrol through its halls.

Most of all, N no longer held any influence over this place.

It was this, above all else, that set him on edge as his footsteps echoed through the halls. He was a guest now—contingent on the goodwill of a queen who had a thousand years' worth of reasons to resent his presence here.

It was what it was, though. He'd chosen his path.

The attendant led them not into the throne room but into a side parlour. N remembered it; he'd used it to meet with his subordinate Consuls at times, though he doubted the queen knew that, nor that the room had barely changed from what it had been in Aionios. If she did, she surely would have chosen to tear down the subtle blue wallpaper, replace the chandelier, maybe even throw out the furniture to get the taint of Moebius out of her castle.

Instead, she was seated at the table reading through some papers. Noah sat next to her. They'd been looking for him the entire time, and he'd been here all along? What rotten luck.

The queen made a note on the paper, then looked up. "I hope it doesn't bother you that I didn't receive you in private."

Before N could answer, Ashera chimed in. "Not at all! Now they can ask Noah what you meant and you can answer for yourself!"

Thereby guaranteeing that no answer would come. One would think Ashera, who had been a commander many times, would know these things, but some people were simply incorrigible. Segiri didn't seem the slightest bit discouraged by the prospect, though, as she stepped forward instantly under the queen's confused gaze.

"I want to know why you called my proposal to build a Ferron unit unthinkable," she said. "Do you think of me as... undeserving?"

"You asked for—" Noah started, but the queen held up a hand as she stood up, and he quieted down.

"Did you think it a rejection?" the queen asked. "I am sorry, if so. I never intended for it to come across that way. My apologies for not taking the time to explain my reasoning to you on that day, Segiri."

Segiri lowered her head. "I just want to help."

Melia came around the table and stopped in front of Segiri. Though she towered over the girl, there was no condescension or haughtiness in her posture, or in the way she then laid a hand on Segiri's shoulder. "It is not a rejection of you, your skills or your willingness to help. I have more appreciation of your eagerness to step up and do your part at such a young age that you could ever know. All of you survivors of Aionios—you are so strong, in spite of everything."

"Then why—"

"It is a mark of great injustice for children to have to take to the battlefield." Melia knelt down in front of Segiri. "You who have never known anything else may struggle to understand this. Your world has never afforded you the choice not to fight, after all. What I want, above all, is for you children to find your own path, unshackled by the demands Aionios made of you."

"My own path? But..." Segiri half-turned around to N and Ashera, as if asking for assistance. Assistance that N could not give. What did he know of this world, of life in this world? But Ashera... Ashera had never been shy about giving advice where she wasn't qualified.

"Seems to me like the queen is saying you're only asking for a Ferron because you don't know what else to do," she drawled. "Bad reason to fight, that."

Rich for her of all people to say. But N kept his mouth shut, let her talk.

"Can't say I wouldn't do the same if I thought fighting in a Ferron was interesting," Ashera continued. "Ah. That probably makes me the wrong person to ask, doesn't it? Anyway, if you really want to fight, I say keep pestering queenie here until she gives in. Queenie is also a lot older than any of us except maybe head honcho here, though, so you should probably at least consider if she's right. Are you older, actually, head honcho? How does that work, anyway?"

The queen's gaze drifted over to N at the words 'head honcho', but she didn't comment on it. Small blessings.

"But what else am I supposed to do?" Segiri asked.

Ashera shrugged. "How would I know? I certainly don't want to do anything else than what I've already been doing. Figure it out yourself."

"I believe," the queen said, "that we will all be able to move past Aionios in due time. We can all of us find new purpose together." She stepped away from Segiri and up to the east window, gazing out at the city. "It is a challenge. We have been thrust into a new world, and now we must find out what that means for all of us. Even I, who hails from this world, must find my way now that all has changed..."

They'd lost the world they'd lived in. Melia had regained it, but in the process lost all the people she'd held dear. It seemed to N that that was worse. At least he still had Noah, and the knowledge that M lived on in the other world. Yet, he still struggled with finding his path, and he had so little time to do it. It was frightening; but in this moment, here in the parlour, there was something he could do.

"Come with me to Valdi," he said to Segiri. "You might not find your calling there, but it will give you something to do until that time."

Segiri cocked her head. Everyone else's eyes turned to him, leaving him feeling oddly discomfited. "He—we—have been tinkering," he continued, more to fill the silence than anything else. "You may assist us."

"Aside from basic maintenance, I have never been involved in Levnis construction matters. Will he be fine with that?"

Valdi would be ecstatic at the chance to dump all his knowledge on someone else who wouldn't bail halfway through. "He will be," N said.

"I will... try, then. Thank you for this opportunity."

Ashera clapped. "Wonderful, have we done what we came here for, then? Excellent, don't mind if I skedaddle now."

And with that she sauntered out of the parlour. Conduct like that would have gotten her reprimanded in Aionios, not that she would have cared. N glanced at the queen, but she didn't seem inclined to do anything about it. All she said was, "Is there anything else either of you needed?"

N shook his head. Segiri, likewise, declined. Rather than being bothered over them disturbing her for such a trifle, the queen smiled at Segiri. "I am glad I could help. Might I suggest coming to me directly next time you have a question for me? Ashera's comment implied that you sought your answer elsewhere for a time...?"

The N of old would never have been truthful about that matter. Being frank with one's superiors was a pointless waste of time, in the end. They did what they wanted, and he had to find ways to deal with it. It was true among all colonies, and in the end, even the City had never been fully free of such politics—much less Moebius. But as he no longer wanted to be that person, and as the queen had been forthcoming, maybe it was worth the attempt. What was the worst that could happen?

"I assumed you wouldn't answer," he said.

"Why?"

There was something surreal about others treating such a self-evident statement as if it made no sense. It was simply the way of the world. If you wanted answers, you had to reach for them yourself—not ask for them to be handed to you. To explain such a simple truth—he found he lacked the words for it.

It was Segiri who came to his rescue. "Colony 0 did not encourage asking questions," she announced. "I found it natural to seek answers elsewhere. The probability is high that this was common in many other colonies as well."

"Moebius was no different," Noah added. "Asking Z anything never really worked out."

To put it mildly.

"It's true," N said quietly. "I didn't question my old assumptions." And maybe part of him still saw her as a puppet, not worthy of being talked to. Maybe that had influenced his decision.

"I see," the queen said, not unkindly. "Then it is my hope that you will be able to move out from under the shadow of Aionios as well, and realise that it need not be like that."

Slowly, N nodded. The queen was the last person he had expected to voice such encouragement, but she was right. "I will remember to come to you directly the next time," he said.

"Most excellent. Shall we go on our ways, then? I'm sure we all have things left to do today."

With a stab of guilt, N remembered his neglected patrol route. It would be fine, but even so, he'd wasted hours on this wild flamii chase that could have been spent more productively. If he left now, maybe he could at least cover part of it...

But after he excused himself and turned to leave the parlour, Noah left the table and joined him.

"Do you not have business with the queen?" N asked.

"All done. Let's go home together."

There it was, that little glimmer of happiness. Going home to Noah was enjoyable; going home with him even better. The question of whether Noah felt the same lay on his tongue, but he didn't ask it. Cowardice again, maybe, but even that couldn't dampen his mood.

They left the castle together, walking side by side through its hallways. It felt less foreboding that way. The folks walking around the streets outside greeted Noah; some even greeted N. In the golden evening sun, the city all but gleamed, reflecting the rays off of rooftops and windows and metal street lanterns. There were times N had experienced atmospheres so calm and peaceful. They had inevitably been fleeting moments drifting in the flow.

"Your companion," he said, unprompted, as they walked down their home street. "Sena. She named Segiri, did she not?"

"Ah? Yes. Spur of the moment decision, but it worked out well for Segiri, I'd say."

So it had. She seemed to struggle with using it sometimes, but N didn't think she would be better off still being Number 7. "Do you think I made the right call in inviting her?"

"Who knows? She might hate it. She might use what she learns from Valdi to build herself another Ferron. We'll deal with that if it happens."

Simple as that. And that reassurance was what granted N the courage to speak his next thought. "I've been thinking about visiting the... the original Noah's home," he said.

There was unmistakable concern in the look Noah gave him. "Why is that?" he asked.

"You're thinking that I still can't distinguish between me and him, aren't you?" N shook his head. "I know I'm not him. I just want to see where we came from—who we were before Aionios."

A root didn't have to be an origin, but as their origin was in plain sight, it was cowardice to run from it. He had to confront it—to see for himself the child who had vanished in their stead.

Or maybe he really was trying to be someone else again, and simply didn't notice?

He shrugged, suddenly feeling discomfited. "Does that make sense?"

"It does," Noah said. "And... in fact, I looked up where he lived. Nobody's moved into the house." He shrugged as well, in the exact same way N knew he himself did. "I've been thinking about it too, I suppose. Maybe for the same reason you do."

"Always a step ahead, aren't you?" N murmured. He hadn't had the courage to look it up.

"Let's go together, then?"

Always nudging him forward, too. Something to be grateful about. "Yeah," N said. "Together."

In the end, the house wasn't even far from the one they'd moved into; a brisk ten minute walk was all it took. Nothing about the building looked remarkable. N would have walked right past if Noah hadn't come to a halt and announced it to be the correct one. Whitewashed walls. Wooden door. Some wilted flowers on the windowsills.

It looked alien to N.

He hadn't expected memories to come rushing back in or to feel a sense of déjà-vu, but even so, his own lack of recognition startled him. Supposedly, this was his origin. Shouldn't it feel more... homely?

"I guess," Noah said, "we have to break in again?"

That felt wrong, too. But what choice did they have?

Prying the door open wasn't that hard, with the flimsy iron lock being the only thing holding it close. It swung open with a creak, revealing the house's dusty interior. Neither of them stepped inside.

"You're hesitating as much as I am?" N asked.

"We're the same person," Noah said.

And if they were the same person, then both of them could muster up the courage to do what was needed. Before the doubts could creep back in, N took Noah by the hand and pulled him through the open doorway.

It became a little easier once inside. Touching anything still felt anathema, but walking into the kitchen didn't feel like running into a brick wall the way coming inside at all had been.

The afternoon light coming in through the window gave the kitchen a warm and inviting feel, despite the dust covering the counters. A jar half-full with candy stood on the table, lid closed tightly. Candy had been a rare luxury in the City and unheard of in the colonies, but apparently the Noah that had once been had indulged in them often. Next to the jar lay a paper, which N picked up. Plain little math problems of no consequence, akin to the tests administered to young colony soldiers in training, or in the classes for City children.

Noah had turned away towards the fridge. N followed his gaze. There was a drawing pinned to the fridge door, a crayon scribble betraying no particular talent that showed a child with black hair flanked by two adults.

"Do you think that's from him?" Noah asked quietly.

"It has to be." N didn't speak any louder.

A boy had drawn that image and gifted it to his parents, and then the Intersection had stolen away their lives and thrown them into a merciless world of war and suffering, never to return. N knew nothing of having parents, and only a little of being one. He couldn't picture what it was like, having not only the leisure of scribbling down drawings but also the luxury of gifting it to a parent.

At some point, the old Noah's parents must have set foot on Aionios too. Who had they been then? Had N met them without realising?

Were they still around in this new old world? Did he want to know, if so?

Neither of them spoke after that. It was Noah who pulled away wordlessly after a time and made for the stairs. N followed him. He knew what Noah searched for, and that he needed to see it for himself.

The first door they opened led to a tiny bathroom, ordinary in this world but luxurious in its simplicity compared to what the colonies had had. Once upon a time, N would have found it staggering to see several types of scented liquid soap lined up neatly on the counter, and perhaps Noah still felt that way, as he briefly stopped and eyed the colourful bottles. That wasn't why they were here though, so they left the room and peered into the next.

This must have been the parents' bedroom, with the wide double-bed that reminded N uncomfortably of the bedroom he'd had as Moebius, where M had joined him less and less as the years had gone on. There was a photo on the nightstand. Noah didn't question him when N all but slammed the door shut again before he could look too closely.

They found what they sought behind the third and final door. A singular bed stood against the far wall, right next to a colourful wardrobe in the corner. A desk and a chair, sized for a child, and a bookshelf stuffed so full N thought the shelf boards ought to give out any moment. Noah—the one who had come before them—must have enjoyed reading. N ran a finger across the spines. 'The Moon: Mysterious Luminary'. 'Fossils: Traces of the Past'. 'A Trip through the History of the Bionis and Mechonis'; two names whose meaning N had since learned, but imagining what it was like to live on the bodies of two living titans hadn't become any easier. Perhaps he ought to read that book as well...

"It's strange," Noah said.

"What is?"

"I keep saying we're not him, but I suppose I still expected him to play music. Maybe not the flute, but... something." Noah looked up from the desk. "There's nothing, though. No sheet music, no instrument case, nothing at all. I guess all of that comes from... well, me."

A moment of silence, during which N's fingers rested on the history book as he contemplated how to answer.

"What about you?" Noah asked. "Do you find yourself here? You were the original, after all."

The original. Funny, putting it like that. N shook his head. "Thinking about what I used to enjoy doing makes me feel—nothing. It's not like you and your flute. Even if I'd shared interests with... him, I wouldn't find myself at home here."

It had all gradually lost meaning during his thousand years as Moebius. The persona of N he'd adopted hadn't had any use for these things, and as 'N' became second nature to him he hadn't had the mental fortitude to sustain interest in any of it. And so it had all drifted out of his grasp little by little.

"Still," Noah said. "I'd like to know. Those memories are gone from my mind, and I'm curious."

A different trip through history, that. There were things N didn't like remembering, but hunting through his vast reserve of memories for past hobbies shouldn't be too unpleasant.

"One life," he began after a moment, "I wound up getting relegated to map duty and that led to me drawing in my spare time. There was never enough time to become good at it, but I liked sitting down and drawing the places we made our bases in after duty." Moments of peaceful respite and a reminder that Aionios was beautiful where it wasn't marred by the scars of battle. Yet, despite knowing he had enjoyed it then, the thought of picking up a pencil again left him feeling hollow.

He continued before he ended up thinking about that too hard. "Then there was a time I was in charge of transporting materiel, and I used the scraps to build figurines... Frankly, it was just boredom in between freight runs, but it passed the time just as well."

And in the city, a couple folks had pulled him into playing card games with them—but that was something he wasn't prepared to talk about. Discomfited, he shrugged. "I don't know. It feels strange to think about."

"I'm sorry to bring it up—"

"No," N said. "It's fine. Running away from my own past isn't going to make anything better. I'm just not the person who enjoyed these things anymore."

"Then I'll help you find what the person you are now enjoys, if you'll have me."

"You can stop with that disclaimer, you know. I told you I'd walk this world with you."

Was it the afternoon light, or did the faintest hint of a blush creep across Noah's face? "I'm glad," he said. "That you can be here with me, I mean."

That, in turn, made N feel warm. "Did you want to see anything else here?" he asked, for lack of better response.

Noah shook his head. "It was enough to show us that this... this isn't us. I don't need any more."

That was true, and yet, as Noah turned to leave the room, N found himself lingering near the bookshelf, hand still on the history book. It wasn't a very thick book, and the colourful exterior suggested it had been written for children. He'd be able to read it in an afternoon if he wanted to.

"Take it," Noah said. When N didn't answer, he continued, "You want to read it, right? Then you should take it with you. I can only speak for myself, but I know I wouldn't want my belongings to be left like this if someone else can get use out of them."

And that made sense, yet it still felt like robbing a grave. "I'm too old for it anyway," N said. "It's a children's book."

"Who cares?"

Nobody. Not a single person. They all had more important things to worry about.

It was with reluctance that N pulled the book off the shelf, but he did pull it off, with a silent thank you to the child that no longer was.

Masha had begun working on a monument. When she was finished, he'd leave a flower for that child at its foundation. For the time being, though, remembrance would have to suffice.

He held the book tightly as they walked home through the sunlit streets.

"The canteen had extra tornado wrap shells," Noah said as he unlocked the door to their house. "Want to try making them?"

"Yes," N said, and he meant it.

They'd gotten a little better at in these past days and weeks. Some of N's skill in the kitchen had returned, and Noah had proven an eager learner. Today, he hummed softly as he chopped the asparagus and celery variations that grew in this world, another melody that N didn't recognise. It sounded pleasant enough that N stilled rather than continuing to cut the sausages and listened for a moment.

Noah had a nice voice. It was a strange thing to think about someone who had his voice, but it was true nonetheless. N felt a stab of disappointment when he stopped humming and looked up.

"Is something wrong?" Noah asked.

"No, no, just... I liked the melody. Another one you came up with it?"

Noah nodded. "I'll write it down if you want. You can play it on your flute, it's simple enough."

"I'd love to," N said, and then he felt warm when Noah smiled. He turned away hastily and resumed his work on the sausages.

Tossing them in the pan, frying them without turning it into charcoal, adding spices; it had all become a little easier in these past few weeks and by the time they sat down with their tornado wraps, N felt that they'd produced something they could be proud of. He picked up his wrap, bit into it and for a moment he walked the streets of the City again, stopping by the tornado wrap stand for lunch.

For the first time in a thousand years, he felt no need to push the thought away, away, away until it stopped hurting. The guilt was still there, but right now, he didn't need to run away from it anymore.

"You look happy," Noah said.

"I am. It was a good day."

They didn't speak for a while after that, but it was an amicable silence of having food and nothing serious to talk about. Halfway through his wrap, Noah placed it back on the plate and pulled the red ribbon from his hair, leaving it falling freely over his shoulders. N's breath momentarily hitched between two bites. It was like looking in the mirror—but then the visual similarities between them were plain regardless of how Noah wore his hair, and at any rate the hairstyle suited him.

"I made the ponytail too tight today," Noah said, scratching his neck. "Is that alright with you?"

"Yes, it looks good on you," N said without thinking, and then immediately wondered why he'd said it. Noah would think him weird for it—

But Noah only answered, "Let me try something then." He circled the table and came to a halt behind N. "Hold still," he said. Then he gathered up N's hair and gently tied it into a ponytail, and rested his hands on N's shoulders afterwards.

N raised a hand and traced the surface of the ribbon with a finger. He hadn't once done his hair like this since becoming Moebius, over a thousand years ago.

Abruptly, he stood up and made his way to the mirror in the entryway, just a few steps away that felt like they stretched on forever. "I look like you," he said when he laid eyes on himself.

Noah didn't rebuke him for the self-evident statement. In the mirror, N could see him look... almost insecure? "You can undo it if you don't like it," he said, "but it suits you."

"Does it?"

"I like it, at any rate."

Noah liked it.

"Maybe... maybe just inside for now?" N ventured. "Otherwise we'll confuse everyone."

Noah laughed. "I think they'd be able to tell, but yeah. Sounds good to me."

He lingered behind N for a moment, hands half-raised. Then he stepped away, and N found himself oddly disappointed, though he wasn't sure what he'd expected to happen.

"There was something else I wanted to ask," Noah said. "Namely, if you would... consider taking on a new name. Or an old one."

N stilled, his own heartbeat loud in his ears.

"You don't have to," Noah added quickly. "Just N is fine. And you don't have to decide right now, either."

"I—I need some time to think about it. I'll do my flute practice," N said, and fled, and hid behind fumbling his way through the practice songs. It went a long way to calming him, yet, even though Noah didn't broach the matter again, N couldn't shake the confusion for the rest of the evening.

Chapter Text

Noah was already hard at work that morning when N entered the kitchen, still rubbing his eyes. "Good morning," Noah said cheerfully as he poked at whatever was sizzling in the pan. He'd been at it for a while, if the splatters on his apron were anything to go by.

"You were up early."

"I had a stroke of inspiration," Noah said. "Stand back for a moment, will you?"

N obliged. Noah grabbed the spatula and attempted to flip the contents of the pan, with limited success. Rather than landing on the other side, the half-fried dough crumpled back into the pan in an undignified heap.

"Manana made it look so much easier," Noah muttered.

"What's all this, anyway?" N eyed the pan. Tornado wrap shells?

"Pancakes, Manana called them, said she invented the recipe. They're really good. I figured I'd surprise you with them, but..." Noah gestured at a plate standing next to the pan. The sad ruins of what N surmised were supposed to be flat pieces of fried dough lay on it. He took one of the ragged pieces and popped it into his mouth. It was sweet, so unlike tornado wraps. The taste reminded him of the buns they'd baked in the city at times, back then.

"We can eat pancake ruins," he said. "I don't mind."

Noah laughed, though it sounded a bit pained. "Well, I'm glad, because at this rate it's all we're getting."

Even Noah had made it look easier than it really was, N discovered as he took over flipping the final two pancakes. How annoying, to look like a fool in front of him—though, as always, Noah didn't seem to mind, and that limited the irritation. In the end, even N laughed as the final pancake fell apart on the spatula, and then they carried their ruins to the table for breakfast.

"To more pancake ruins in the future?" Noah said, eyes twinkling.

"Tomorrow, if you'd like."

They clinked their glasses against each other, echoing an old City custom. Then they ate their remaining pancake pieces, and if some of them had grown cold already, what did it matter? They were still sweet.

"Thanks for this," N said. "It was... I liked it." Small words for the appreciation he had for these quiet, calm days that he didn't deserve to experience, but they had to suffice.

"You're welcome," Noah said, then, after a moment of hesitation: "Say, I was wondering. Would you mind if I accompanied you on patrol today?"

"Do you have no work to do?"

"I can take a day off."

Noah wanted to take a day off to spend with him, instead of all the other things he could be doing. It made him feel warm. "If that's what you want," N said, "then... then I'll have you gladly."

There was a subtle change of posture in Noah; sitting up straight, then leaning slightly forward. "You have a nice smile," he said.

It took a moment for the meaning to set in, and then N could suddenly no longer look him in the face. "Thanks," he said to the table instead. When was the last time anyone had told him that? It must have been before he'd become Moebius. Back then, Mio had said it to him sometimes. She'd stopped after, of course, just like he'd largely stopped smiling in earnest without even realising. "I like yours too," he offered and immediately felt stupid. What a silly thing to say. They had the same smile.

But Noah didn't call him out on it; not when they got ready to head out, nor when they made their way towards the city outskirts using one of the newly reactivated auto-buses, which now hovered around the streets. Interesting that they'd had such technology when it had always been Agnus to use fully autonomous vehicles, not Keves.

"Where were you planning on going today?" Noah asked as they found their seats—picked at random, since there was nobody else on the bus.

"The coastal cliffs," N said. The part he'd neglected the day prior. It was a scenic route, all things considered. Maybe it wasn't so bad that he could bring Noah. He hadn't gotten out of the city much yet, had he? It might do him good.

The morning air was crisp and refreshing, with the sun peeking out behind the clouds. It was a good day to be out and about, and that thought drove home how different this new world was. The trepidation of running into the enemy had always lingered whenever N had gone on patrol duty in ages past. Now it felt more like a leisurely stroll, even after leaving the edge of the city behind. Few monsters haunted these parts, and even fewer now that Ashera's posse had started decimating them for whatever dubious sense of enjoyment they derived from it. Patrols weren't meant to be this relaxing—but maybe they were in this world. What did he know?

Noah stopped and gazed at the distant shore once it came into view. The waves glistened under the sparse sunlight, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of salt with it. "It really does look like Erythia Sea," he said.

"You'll see more differences once we're up on the cliffs." Or would he? Noah had never had the leisure to wander Aionios and see its sights for himself. With how little time he'd spent around Erythia Sea, maybe he wouldn't be able to tell.

"It's strange to consider, isn't it? Half of the world we knew is gone, and from their perspective, half of theirs is here now." Noah fell silent for a moment as they started up the incline leading up to the cliffs. "I wonder if they visited their half of Erythia Sea already."

It was a nice idea, wasn't it, of both Mios standing in their version of Erythia Sea right this moment, maybe even in the same place they were, whatever that meant between two separate worlds... No more than an illusion, of course, wholly improbable, but he held on to it for a moment anyway. "If they haven't," he said, "maybe we can go together. If—when we find a way to reconnect our worlds."

If. When. Did it say something about him that if was the first thought he'd had?

Noah either didn't notice or chose not to comment on it. "That'd be nice, wouldn't it? Going together... I want to pick out some places to show them. Head out and see our wing of Aionios for myself."

Abdicate responsibility and simply wander? A self-indulgent wish. N had been able to do it as Moebius, a luxury so few in Aionios had been afforded, but to do the same in this world... was what they'd fought for, in the end. Thinking about it like that, he could push past the lingering guilt and ask, even if hesitantly, "Would you take me with you when you go?"

Noah laughed. "Of course, silly. Did you think I'd leave you behind?"

"Sorry," N said with a small smile. "Old habits."

"All forgiven. I'll even let you decide where we go first."

Where to go, huh. There were too many options to make the choice easy, but in the distant past, before he'd stopped caring about such things, there had been places N had cherished. Why not give them a visit? See what they looked like in this world—the sights only the queen remembered now.

"I can think of some destinations," he said.

As they discussed it, they reached the cliffside. Noah fell silent mid-sentence as the vast expanse that was Eryth Sea came into view. The blue-green and grey water stretched as far as the eye could see, with the distinctive jagged cliffs jutting over it. Far in the distance, the outline of the great sword stood out against the clouded sky. To hear the queen say it, it hadn't used to stand like this, but a quirk in the Separation had preserved its towering shape from Aionios.

Noah walked forward to the very edge of the cliff and stood there for a moment, head raised high. His ponytail swayed in the ocean breeze, glints dancing across the locks as the rays of the oceanside sun hit it. "Really puts things into perspective, doesn't it?" he asked.

It did. A world whole and hale, no longer being eaten by the annihilation effect, stretched out before them. This Eryth Sea would outlast them all. All the places they'd see on their travels would. Just like they'd outlasted the people who had come before them.

Yet, was the impact of their lives not traceable? N had often thought it was strange to find these lands so well-settled. In the end, that impression came from scores of guards who had patrolled the coasts before him. They'd all worked to keep the surroundings of the city peaceful, and now he reaped their results.

Maybe there would come a time in the future where a young man embarked on guard duty and found the lands as well-kept...

"Let's borrow the boat Valdi built for Triton and sail Eryth Sea," he said. "I mean—if you want to do that."

And Noah smiled and said: "Let's do that," and the world felt a little brighter.

Day by day, if he could navigate life like this, maybe then everything would be fine.

The conversation turned to lighter matters as they walked away from the cliffside. Dinner plans, the increasingly pressing need to do their laundry, anecdotes from Noah running errands to support people. Valdi's latest ideas for the Mechafarmbot and the obstacles in the way of implementing them, for which N thought of a potential solution as he spoke. The clouds covering the sky started dissipating towards noon, revealing the sun steadily climbing higher. For a while, they stopped underneath the canopy of a colourful tree and ate the midday snack they'd brought along. It was no Saffronia tree, N thought as he caught a falling leaf, but it didn't have to fear the comparison either.

With the turn of seasons, spring-green leaves had covered the barren canopies, interspersed with the first luminous violet flowers. He didn't recognise the species, nor did Noah when he asked. Maybe Zeon would know, or they could look it up. The city library was well-stocked. There were bound to be books on the local flora.

"Say." Noah swallowed the last bit of bread. "Is this what you imagined it to be?"

Was it? N gazed up at the canopy sheltering them. Knowing, as he had in the end, that he wouldn't get to see it, he hadn't imagined anything. Before then, he hadn't been able to imagine Aionios coming to an end. This world, outside of their moment in time, had been forever unreachable. Until it wasn't anymore.

"I don't know," he said. "But I think that's okay."

As nice as sitting under the tree was, they couldn't dally here forever. N rose and headed out from beneath the tree. Noah, following, asked, "Is this the last part you have to cover?"

"For today, yes." He didn't need to drag Noah along for an extended patrol, making up for his lapse the day before. Tomorrow was another day to catch up on it. That, in turn, meant that he'd have time to go visit Valdi and present to him the solution he came up with earlier.

He took a moment to stretch, then went about his way with renewed enthusiasm.

The final leg of their patrol led them along the lower coastline near the city. The tide was low and the sea calm, so that the gentle waves lapping at the sand became nothing more than quiet background noise. "There usually isn't anything here," N explained to Noah. "It isn't kromar territory and laia don't come to low-lying areas like this. We get gradys here, and eks and elucas, but those rarely become hostile." Ashera had gone so far as to propose excluding the area from patrols altogether, but as the shore was only a stone's throw away from Alcamoth, nobody else had wanted to take that risk.

They passed by an eks herd grazing peacefully. Its members looked up as they walked by them at a distance, but then simply went back to their business. The eluca didn't even pay that little attention, wholly focused on eating every last leaf off a tree instead. It was a nice, relaxing stroll on the beach, until the boulder Noah passed by exploded out of the sand and threw him backwards. N caught him, and then yanked him further back when the newly revealed tude snapped at them.

No words were needed. Old reflexes kicked in as if nothing had changed, hands grasping for the hilt of a sword and then charging at the enemy. N took to the right of the tude, Noah to the left. Divide the enemy's attention—attack where it could not see.

N struck first, aiming at the beast's exposed right flipper. His sword glanced off without making a mark. The tude slammed its flipper down on him, forcing him to back up, and then further as the sand kicked up by the flipper pelted him. There was a clang on the other side, followed by a muffled swear. Noah wasn't faring any better than he was.

For the first time since reawakening in this world, N wished he still had the Sword of the End.

There were minute gaps in the plating on the flippers and face. Their only recourse was to aim for them and hope they'd be able to whittle the tude down through death by a thousand cuts. However, for such a hulking beast, the tude was surprisingly nimble with its limbs. Time and again the flipper twitched, causing N's strike to glance off the thick plating. Meanwhile, the tude used its massive bulk to drive them off simply by threatening to slam into them full-force.

If the flipper was too nimble, maybe the head was the better target.

The moment the tude turned its attention to Noah, N darted in and aimed the tip of his sword at the tude's eye. Gouge it out, blind the beast, and—

—find himself face to face with a snapping maw that could break him in half. He leapt backwards, desperate to put space between him and the maw. Instead of chomping down on him, it found his sword, still held out in front of him. The serrated edges of the tude's jaw came down on it and with a sickening crunch, the blade snapped under the strain. N was left holding a jagged stump as the tude spat the tip of the sword into the sand.

"Are you okay?" Noah shouted from the side.

"Yes," N called back, "but my sword—"

The tude came after him again, and he had to cut himself short as he wove through the flipper slamming down on him repeatedly.

It would have been an easy fight in Aionios. A Moebius or Ouroboros form would have dispatched a monster like this with ease. Here and now, they were weaker than they had been. Here and now, even a common monster could put them in peril.

With the useless sword stump N couldn't even come close to finding his target. Most of the gaps in the plating were too small to wedge the sword into them now, and getting that close was too risky anyway. What to do? How could they beat this thing? Even when Noah scored a hit or two, it didn't slow the tude down at all.

Footsteps on the sand.

A moment later, Ethel appeared next to him, twin swords in hand. She didn't so much as look at him as she advanced on the tude. "Noah!" she shouted. "How are things on your end?"

"Hanging in there but not making any progress!"

Ethel didn't fare much better than N had at hitting the right spots. The smashing flipper and the tude craning its head to snap at her forced her out just like it had N. Their stamina would wane long before the tude's did at this rate, even with three people. Blinding it would help, but Ethel soon made the same discovery he had: The tude was too protective of its head to let anyone in close enough.

For a brief moment in the tide of battle, they all ended up on the same side of the tude. "I'll distract it," Noah said after a brief glance at Ethel and N. "We'll go for the head all at the same time. It can't snap at all of us at once."

"You go for the eye," N said. "I'm not getting anywhere with this stump."

Ethel looked at him then, brow furrowed and eyes narrow, but she nodded. Nothing further needed to be said. They scattered as the tude approached again and went to work.

As soon as N saw that the others were in position, he advanced on the head. This time, he was more prepared for the deceptively quick swivelling and leapt backwards safely when it snapped at him.

"Come at me," he muttered. "Just pay attention to me—"

The broken sword glanced off of the thick plates just as surely as the tip had, but evidently the mere attempt enraged the tude enough that it paid no mind to Ethel rushing in from the side. By the time it noticed and tried to swivel, her sword found its eye socket and gouged deep into it.

The tude screeched. The sound seemed to reverberate in N's head, enough to make him stumble as the tude thrashed blindly, kicking up sand and forcing Ethel to abandon her sword stuck in the eye socket as she backed away.

Noah still darted in, nimbly weaving past the flailing limbs. As much as his head pounded from the screech, N moved in as well, sword glancing off the scales just the same. Then, just as Noah came into striking range, the tude's flipper caught onto his leg, tripping him over. The tude was on him in moments, maw wide open to snap him in half.

It was pure instinct. N lunged forward and thrust his sword arm into the maw. He couldn't exert much force like this, but poking the roof of its mouth with the jagged end of the broken sword was enough. The tude bellowed again and tried close its jaws. It would be more than enough force to drive the sword through its palate.

N yanked his arm back.

The serrated edges of the maw caught on to it. The tips raked through his flesh, leaving deep lacerations.

The jaw snapped shut, driving the broken sword all the way into the tude's brain. It shuddered. A moment later, its legs buckled and it dropped onto the sand, unmoving.

For a moment, N didn't feel any pain. Then it all came crashing down, the agony of having his arm torn into. Dark spots danced before his eyes. He sucked in a laboured breath, clenched his jaw to a strained noise from deep in his throat and then craned his head to look at his right arm.

It was still there. Hand and all. Covered in blood, but still there. His fingers must have left the tude's jaw a mere split second before they would have gotten shorn off.

Even so, blood gushed out of the lacerations at an alarming rate. The pain was enough to make even him wheeze. It wasn't the worst physical pain he'd ever endured—that honour went to some of the more gruesome deaths he'd experienced—but as the adrenaline dissipated, the pulsing pain lodged itself at the forefront of his mind and refused to budge. The ringing in his ears almost drowned out Noah's voice as he popped up next to him, reaching out and holding him steady, helping him sit down in the wet sand.

"N? Are you alright? Say something."

"I'm fine," N said. "Didn't get it bit off."

Somewhat detached, distracted by the pain, he watched Noah take off his jacket and wrap it around his arm. Right. Stopping the bleeding was the most important step in first aid for a wound like this. No amount of healing would do him any good if he bled out on this beach.

Strange to think about, that he could actually bleed out again. For good this time.

Ethel knelt on his other side. "I'll get a healer," she said, eyes trained on Noah alone. "Stay here."

"Got it," Noah said as he adjusted his grip on N's arm. N bit back a hiss at the pain of cloth chafing against the wound. "I should lie down," he said through grit teeth. "Elevate the... the limb above the heart."

Noah helped him lie down in the sand while keeping up the pressure on his arm. Hopefully he wasn't attached to that jacket. It must be soaked wet with blood by now, and bloodstains didn't come out so easily. There were people in the city who knew how to tailor... maybe N could get them to make a replica. Or maybe that red jacket he'd looted from that shop was still there. Why was he even thinking about that? The blood loss must be getting to him.

"I'd give my flute to still be able to use healer weapons," Noah muttered.

"Don't," N said. "It means so much to you."

"Yes, well, so do you and unlike you, a flute can always be replaced."

So do you. Such kind words. Almost enough to offset the cold wet sand leeching all warmth from his body. "Can you keep talking to me?" N said quietly.

"Yeah," Noah said. "Of course. Have I told you about our travels across Erythia Sea?"

N remembered much of it, of course, but he still listened when Noah recounted the details. Going by boat, they'd visited many islands, broken camp on several of them, fought monsters, met people...

"It's how we ran into Triton," Noah said. "I can't say I ever thought we'd team up with a consul back then."

"And now look at you, tending to the wounds of the Head Consul of Keves..."

"That's not you anymore."

Right. He wasn't. There were no Consuls anymore in this world, anyway. N the Consul had become... what, N, friend of Noah? "Hey," he said. "Are we friends, Noah?"

It was a dubious look Noah gave him in response. N braced himself for a well-deserved rejection, but all Noah said was, "Of course. Why would you ever think otherwise?"

"Seeing how I might be bleeding out, I wanted..." N trailed off. What did he want? He didn't want it to end just yet, but there wasn't much more that either he or Noah could do about that. Faced with that, maybe...

"N, you're not bleeding out."

"You don't have to console—"

"N," Noah repeated, "you are not bleeding out. Objectively speaking. Yes, the wound is bad, but you're not bleeding that profusely."

"Oh."

"Did you spend this entire time lying there thinking you were going to die?"

"I guess..." N fell silent for a moment. "I guess it all just felt too good to be true." Small words, but they were all he had. Any moment he would wake up and find himself in Aionios again. Any moment, this marvellous life would be cut short for the very last time...

"Dummy," Noah said softly. "You'll be fine and we'll go home together, today and tomorrow and the day after. That's a promise."

He might have bristled at being called a dummy once, but so what if he was one? He could be Noah's dummy. That was alright. Noah's dummy who'd get to go home with Noah. A homecoming.

The term Homecoming had never truly lost its sinister undertones to N, even after he'd become Moebius. He'd lived in a time when it had meant public execution, bereft of even the meaningless yet comforting off-seeing rituals. It was death, plain and simple, and while he'd learned to weaponise it over the countless terms he'd existed as Moebius, his awareness of that fact had never ceased. How could anyone possibly look forward to their Homecoming?

But this homecoming wasn't a lie. It was real.

"I'd like that," he said quietly. "I'd like that very much."

It didn't take long after that for Ethel to arrive with Eunie and Valdi in tow, both of whom knelt down next to N. Noah carefully removed the jacket. For a moment, nobody spoke as the two healers examined the wounds.

"That's going to leave some gnarly scars, even with healing," Eunie finally said. "What did you do to rip your arm up like that?"

"I stuck it in the tude's jaw."

"Woah." Valdi's eyes widened. "Why'd you do that?"

"Noah was in danger." In the face of that, losing an arm wouldn't be such a big deal. He'd do it again. As many times as it took to keep Noah safe.

"Oh, that makes sense," Eunie said. Next to her, Valdi nodded.

"Does it?" Noah asked. He'd moved after letting go of N's arm and now sat next to N's head in the sand.

"It's the same kind of reckless behaviour you do all the time. Don't act like you wouldn't have done the same."

The pain faded little by little as the others talked. The gaping lacerations closed up, leaving nothing more than bright red lines on his skin. By the time they were done, his arm still ached fiercely in the way a wound healed too quickly always did, and he didn't feel any less lightheaded. But he would be okay. He'd be fine.

Noah helped him to his feet and though he felt woozy, he could stand on his own. Experimentally, he flexed his arm. The ache intensified, but no wounds opened. Solid healing work. He hadn't thought Valdi had the skill to do something like that, and so he once again revised his assessment of the boy.

He should let go of the habit of assessing people like that altogether.

"Let's go home," Noah said, and they went, together.

Or shuffle along, in N's case.

It was aggravating; the wound had healed and wasn't reopening, yet he could barely find the strength to lift his feet. Noah matched his pace, as did the others, even Ethel, but it was annoying how weak he felt. How ragged his breath turned at the incline up from the beach. Spark this useless mortal body. If he'd still had his Moebius core none of this would have happened. Noah wouldn't have needed to put himself in danger then.

"Hop on," Noah said.

"What?"

"I'll carry you. It'll be faster."

"Unnecessary." He didn't need help. So what if he felt unsteady on his legs, he could hide it if it meant his reputation—

That was a thing Consul N had cared about—had needed to care about. But as Noah had pointed out so aptly, he was no longer Consul N. What good was a reputation anyway? He'd thoroughly ruined it during his thousand year reign anyway. "No," he relented before Noah could answer. "You're right. It's for the best."

If Noah guessed what had caused his change of heart, he didn't comment on it. "Hop on then," he repeated as he got down on his knees, back facing N.

It was a bit awkward, draping himself over Noah that way. When Noah stood up he nearly toppled over from N shifting his weight the wrong way. It had been a while since he'd last let himself be carried by anyone—not since his soldier days. It was a strange feeling. Not a bad one—but strange. He felt Noah's warmth against his chest.

In the privacy of his own mind, he could admit to himself that this was... nice. Maybe he'd find it in himself to admit it to Noah later, too.

It took them the rest of the afternoon to return to the city, slowed down as they were by his dead weight, but at least it was an uneventful journey. No more monsters struck out at them; in fact, most of the wildlife stayed out of sight. Fortunate. N wouldn't have been able to help, and he had no desire to watch as others fought for him.

It wasn't until they'd all boarded the auto-bus at the city outskirts that N finally turned to Ethel, who no longer needed to keep watch. "Thank you for the help," he said, awkwardly. They were the first words he'd spoken to her post-Separation.

"Don't. It wasn't for your sake."

"Ethel—" Noah started, but she held up a hand.

"I don't have to forgive him or care for his company to understand that his desire to help out is genuine." Ethel didn't look at N as she spoke. "That is enough. I have no reason to act on grudges."

And that was all that needed to be said on the matter, even though Noah opened then closed his mouth, even though Valdi looked back and forth between them and seemed to be chewing on his words. N didn't need forgiveness. He'd do what he could to help regardless.

Ethel disembarked from the bus first not long after; Eunie got off at the station near their makeshift hospital; Valdi accompanied them to the station closest to their home to 'make sure N is okay and all', a gesture wholly unneeded, but he wouldn't be deterred by N pointing that out.

It was only a short walk from here to their house and it shouldn't have been an issue, but even so he had to walk it slowly. Noah stayed by his side the entire time instead of pulling ahead, matching his pace and evidently ready to catch him, should he stumble. It wasn't necessary—he could walk on an even road just fine—but by the time they'd reached their shared home, he found himself ever so slightly wobbling on unsteady legs.

"Let's wash up," Noah said. "Can you make it up the stairs?"

Yes, N wanted to say, but what was the point in clinging to his pride? "I'd appreciate if you helped me," he answered instead and Noah did without questions, slinging an arm around him and steadying him as they made their way upstairs.

Pleasant, to be so close to him. It made the dull ache in his arm go away a little.

In the bathroom, N shrugged off the mangled remainder of his own jacket and made a face when he looked at his arm. Bloodstained, covered with grime even if the healing had removed it from the actual wounds, and the tatters of his shirt still clung to the skin. It wouldn't be fun, cleaning that.

He stepped into the shower ahead of Noah and turned on the water. That, at least, felt good, warding off some of the cold still sitting deep in his bones. For a moment, he closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. Then, as Noah joined him under the running water, he reached for the washcloth and dabbed at his arm. Even that light tug on his skin made the pain flare up.

"Would it help if I did it?" Noah asked. He hadn't started washing himself. So nosy, to watch N instead, but N found himself not minding. Liking it, even.

"You'd be less clumsy at it, if nothing else," N said, glancing at his left hand. He was and had been many things over the course of his lives. Ambidextrous was not one of them.

Noah took the washcloth from him, gently grasped his arm with his other hand and then rubbed at the grime and dried blood around his upper arm. He must have made a sound, as Noah paused, peered at him and only continued when he nodded.

Spark, it did hurt. Like his skin was about to rip open. It wasn't how healing worked, but knowing that didn't make the pain easier to bear. He grit his teeth, biting back all sounds and tried to focus on the warm water, and on Noah's hand on his arm, over the pain. It would be over eventually. He just had to endure a little longer.

At last, Noah lowered his hand and let go of his arm. "All done," he said, and N wanted to thank him for not dragging it out by pausing and checking in; but more than that he wanted to be done and sit down. He reached for the shampoo bottle, only for Noah to snap it up before him.

"I can help you with that too. You need to rest your arm, right?"

He did. It throbbed now, and would only get worse if he used it too much. "I'd offer to return the favour," N said, "but..."

"It's alright. You can do it some other day if you want," Noah said as he unscrewed the shampoo bottle, poured a dollop on his hands and then massaged it into N's hair with gentle fingers.

"Does that feel good?" Noah asked. "I can see your shoulders relaxing."

"Well... it's been a long time since anyone did this for me." And it did feel good. It reminded him of days long past, when intimacy hadn't been so fraught yet.

Noah continued his work in silence after that, lathering on the rest of the shampoo then turning on the water to rinse it off. "I'm glad, you know," he said. "That you're still here. When I saw you there, covered in blood..."

"I'd say I'm sorry for worrying you, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat." But he did feel bad for worrying him. He'd have to find a way to make it up to Noah somehow.

"I know. I guess I'll just have to protect you in turn, hm?"

I don't need to be protected, he thought on instinct, but he did, didn't he? At minimum, he'd needed to be protected from himself. "Mutual protection," he said instead. "Let's do that." Then, feeling flustered: "Would you wash my back too? I can do the rest myself, only—"

"Of course," Noah said and went to work, once again humming to himself. A variation on the melody he'd written down for N, though he couldn't quite tell where the difference was yet. Some difference about the rhythm or another. Maybe one day he would have learned enough to tell.

"You know, I wondered if you were uncomfortable being naked around others," Noah interrupted his train of thought. "So many in the City did..."

N shrugged. "It wasn't the case then. It must have developed after, well... you know."

Noah's hands stilled at the reminder. He shouldn't have alluded to it, not in this moment of peace, now he'd gone and ruined it all again—but then Noah simply continued lathering his back. "Maybe they'll calm down about it," he said. "Since we live together now."

"Or maybe everyone else will pick it up from them."

Noah laughed. "I hope not. It makes things too awkward."

They finished up in silence after that, back to back as N awkwardly soaped the rest of his body with his left hand. It hadn't even been a day and he was already tired of this injury. Sparking tude.

"I'll make dinner," Noah said as they went to fetch clothes from the clean pile they hadn't folded away yet. "You stay put.

"I can—"

"Rest up? Yes, exactly."

And that was that. Noah made dinner. N sat at the dining table and waited for him to be done. A pity that he couldn't use his arm well enough to practise playing his flute. Still, watching Noah bustle around in the kitchen was nice, too. Nimble hands peeling the spuds, then glistening with water when he washed them... His ponytail swayed from side to side as he moved about the kitchen.

"It won't be anything special," Noah said, scratching his neck. "We're running short on groceries again."

"It's fine. I'll eat anything you make." Even a burned meal wouldn't bother him today. Not that he'd ever complained about the poor fare, but it felt different now. Was it the brush with death that made him so appreciative of these little things? In Aionios, it had only ever intensified the terror of losing everything all over again. Maybe he was at long last coming to terms with the end looming before him. Even if the thought made him feel cold. Even if the knowledge made him want to cling to Noah with everything he had. Maybe it really was natural—maybe it didn't mean he was doomed to repeat his mistakes.

Mio would be glad to see it, he thought.

Noah served a simple dish a short while later, fried potatoes with egg and onions. The potatoes were charred, adding an unwanted bitter flavour to the meal. The eggs could have used more salt.

It perhaps was the best thing N had ever eaten.

"Sorry it took so long," Noah said.

"It's fine," N said in between two hasty bites. "Not too long at all."

"Ah, it's just... you don't usually eat that fast, so I thought..."

N paused, fork hovering over his half empty plate. Noah's was still mostly full. Had he really been that hungry? It wasn't hard to explain, healing took something out of the body, and yet... "Sorry," he said, looking aside. "I was—"

"It's good to see." Noah popped one of the potatoes into his mouth; one of the more charred ones, but he didn't seem to mind either. After swallowing, he continued, "I like watching you eat."

Exactly three seconds of silence ticked by before Noah flushed. "That is to say, I mean..."

His fidgeting was oddly endearing. "It's alright, Noah," he said. "Nothing wrong with that."

"I thought you'd find it weird."

N shook his head. "It's not weird. If you like spending time with someone, these quiet moment are precious. Poke through what you remember of my lives sometime. You'll find similar sentiments." Not that he'd need N's memories for it. In the brief time they'd been one, they'd had the same appreciation for Mio's habits.

They finished the remainder of their meal accompanied by silence. Then, instead of putting their dishes away, they sat at the table, looking at each other. Words formed in the back of N's mind, but before he could put form to them Noah spoke up—rubbing his neck, not quite meeting N's eyes, but speaking.

"I wanted to ask you something," he said.

There was a tension between them all of a sudden, different from before. N couldn't put his finger on what it was, exactly. Almost, almost... but before he could unravel it, Noah continued.

"We've grown close since we moved in with each other... I like it. It reminds me of when we were one... but lately I've been thinking. What are we to each other? What do we... want to be to each other?"

"Want to be," N echoed. It was a good question. They lived well together, but as with everything else in this world, it was, for the time being, a temporary arrangement. There was little reason to move apart as things were, but one day they'd open a path between the two worlds, and then...

He and his Mio had a million unspoken words to sort out. Noah would want to be with his Mio. And N?

N found that he wanted both. To reacquaint himself with Mio, to rekindle, if possible, what they'd once had in whatever form that would take—and to stay with Noah, to explore what was between them, to deepen their bond and grow closer.

Closer...

Something clicked into place. The reason for the intermittent awkwardness between them in these past weeks; the fondness he'd felt about Noah's little habits, the little details one only noticed when living together. What it reminded him of. He'd experienced it before, hadn't he? The same sense of fascination with someone else. The joy of simply seeing them go about their daily life.

The same appreciation he'd had for Mio. How had it taken him this long to notice?

"I want to stay with you," he blurted out without giving himself time to think, to back out. No more silence, he'd promised.

"You mean—" Noah hemmed, visibly looking for words.

What did he mean? He didn't have the words for it either. So let his deeds speak for themselves, then.

He rose and, under Noah's startled gaze, circled the table. Noah stood to meet him. How convenient. That way, nothing stopped N from pulling him into his arms.

"I don't know either," he said. His breath hitched when Noah wrapped his own arms around him; maybe he didn't even need to try and find the words, maybe this was already enough—but no, no backing out. No leaving things unsaid anymore. "But I want to be with you. Even after we settle in fully, even after we find a way to bridge the worlds—"

He never finished his sentence, as Noah abruptly leaned in and kissed him. Clumsily. Gently. Not at all the way Mio had ever kissed him, but no less precious for it.

"I'm sorry," Noah started after they broke away, then cut himself short when N jabbed him in the chest.

"Don't you dare apologise for this."

"Hah... I was just worried I went too far." Noah shrugged, blushing slightly. "I have no idea what I'm doing. With Mio, everything just sort of... happened. I didn't even know if you also..."

"It took me this long to figure it out." N gave a wry smile. "I suppose experience doesn't always help either, hm? We can figure it out together. Like we have everything else."

"Thank you," Noah said.

"For?"

There was the tiniest hint of a dimple on Noah's face when he smiled. N had never noticed before. Was it on his face too? Or was it uniquely Noah's? "For everything," Noah said. "Let's put it like that."

There were so many things N wanted to say in response, but his legs chose that precise moment to go wobbly again, forcing him to continue instead, "Do you mind if we sit down on the sofa?"

No objections. Noah led him to the sofa, and though the physical weakness was beyond vexing, slipping down and resting his head on Noah's shoulder was pleasant. It was tempting to close his eyes, but he didn't want to fall asleep just yet.

"I wonder... do we feel like this because we were one person for a while?" Noah mused after they'd sorted out their limbs. "I miss it, you know. Maybe this is just the closest approximation of what we had."

"Would you mind if it is?"

Noah shook his head. "Why would I? It doesn't matter to me where these feelings came from. All that's important is that we want to share our lives with each other, right?"

He had a point. Nothing about their situation was normal. What was one more oddity on the pile?

In the silence following his words, Noah played with a lock of N's hair. It felt as nice as every time Mio had done it. The thought brought to mind a new question.

"Is this going to be alright?" he asked. "With... with you and your Mio?"

Noah's hand stilled for a moment, then resumed carding through N's hair at the same time as N's breath hitched.

"We discussed things after... after the eclipse," Noah said. "What we wanted to be to each other. We both agreed that we wouldn't hold each other back if either of us wanted to change, or pursue other things. I didn't want to... well..."

"End up like me, you mean."

Noah rubbed his neck. "Yeah. Sorry. We decided that we didn't need to own each other. If we wanted to see other people, that'd be fine. The City might say you only get one life partner, but they weren't right about everything. Who's to say we can't have more love to share?"

"Then I'm happy you chose to share it with me," N said quietly.

As happy as he would be to share his name with Noah? Was that what he wanted? Even now, he couldn't grasp the answer.

"What about you and your Mio? Will that be alright, too?"

N closed his eyes. "It's just one more thing we'll have to discuss if we ever see each other again." The thought of her feeling hurt that he'd chosen to see someone else in her absence terrified him, but clinging to her memory and denying himself in hopes of rekindling what they once had was the opposite of what he needed to do. When the day of their next meeting came, N would step in front of her as Noah's partner, if Noah willed it so, and accept her decision, regardless of what it would turn out to be.

In the end, neither of them wanted to take things any further that day. When the night grew late and they'd exhausted their well of conversation topics, Noah rose and returned to his own side of the sofa. Even so, his warmth lingered. Soothed by that, N slept peacefully that night.

Chapter Text

By the time N awoke, the bright midday sun already shone in through the gaps in the shutters. He yawned, stretched and then winced at the dull ache shooting through his arm. It was tolerable, but it'd be another day or two before it felt normal again. Healing never fixed everything on the spot.

A quick glance at the clock revealed that he'd slept for nigh on twelve hours. He must have been more exhausted than he'd realised. Even now he felt sluggish and he half-wanted to simply stay in bed, but Noah was rummaging in the kitchen and N didn't want him to think he was lazy.

Without bothering to change out of his pyjamas, he refreshed himself in the bathroom and then traipsed into the kitchen, where Noah busied himself with a kitchen knife. He put it down the moment N entered. "Good morning. How do you feel?" he asked.

"I'm fine. No, really. I'm doing fine."

Noah laughed. "Okay, I'll believe you just this once."

"It's late in the day. Do you have nowhere else to be?" N said as he stood next to Noah. Then, with a moment's worth of hesitation, he leaned against him, wrapping an arm around his waist. It was a silly fear that Noah would shove him away, but it refused to go away.

As if to prove the fear wrong, Noah laid an arm around his shoulder and pulled him even closer. "I took the day off. I thought we could spend it together at home. I also told Ashera she'll have to cover for you in the near future, by the way."

"Kind of you," N murmured. "Thanks." He should have done it himself the day prior. As long as he could walk, he could still report in. But maybe pushing himself that hard was unnecessary in this world.

"You saved my life yesterday," Noah said. "If anything I should be the one to thank you."

"You needn't thank me for that. I'll always protect you. I owe you that and more."

Noah grasped his hand then, gently running his thumb over his knuckles. "You don't. Don't make this about owing and repaying. Please."

And that was a perfectly sensible thing to ask, but in the same breath, N's gaze fell on the scars left on Noah's own knuckles. Remnants of his time in prison. The wounds had healed, but the reminder of what N had done to him would always remain.

"I forgave you," Noah cut in before N could even say anything. "So don't—"

"Even if all is forgiven, I will still protect you. It's what I want."

The little dimple made a reappearance when Noah smiled. "Some things never change, huh?"

"I guess not." N carefully ran his own thumb over Noah's scars. "But just this once, I think that's okay."

They held on to each other for a while after this. N closed his eyes and allowed himself to bask in the warmth, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that told him none of this would last and getting comfortable with it would only lead to pain. That part—that did need to change, and changing it started with not heeding it. Their lives hadn't ended yet. He'd saved Noah. They were still here.

This particular moment, though, came to a swift end when N's stomach audibly reminded him that he hadn't eaten in many hours.

Noah laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "Lunch?"

"Technically, I think it would qualify as breakfast for me..."

Still, food was in order. Noah reached over and picked a piece of paper off the counter. "Shall we try Manana-style sandwiches?" he asked. N saw no reason to object, and so they set out to make sandwiches. Noah cut the bread. N sorted through the fillings and went about washing, peeling and dicing everything that needed it. Noah must have gone to get groceries this morning—these ingredients hadn't been there the day before.

"Let's take it from the top?" Noah suggested.

Egg salad sandwich. N couldn't picture what it would taste like, but why not. Eggs, mayonnaise, salt and pepper mashed together spread on bread with lettuce—easy enough to make. Which one next?

One by one, they worked their way through the list until N glanced at the next one and said, "We don't have any chicken."

"Put something else in it then."

Something else. Once again, why not? N reached out at random and tossed chopped bell pepper on the sandwich. Then, for the next two slices of bread, he disregarded the recipe list and put together his own combination. Lime juice, mayonnaise, chopped apple and onion...

"Manana would approve," Noah said.

"Really? No complaints over wasted ingredients if it doesn't turn out well?"

Noah laughed. "Well, maybe if it ends up being really bad."

They carried the plate with the sandwiches stacked haphazardly on top of each other to the table and each grabbed one at random.

"You know," Noah said, mouth still half-full, "I think we did a good job with these."

"These are both Manana's recipes. There wasn't much we could have done to mess up something this simple." But the ones N had decided on lay right in front of him. He had functioning taste buds so combining ingredients shouldn't result in any culinary disasters, but even so... He cut one of them in half, handed Noah one and then bit into the other.

It was good. Huh. Go figure.

"You're on sandwich duty from now on," Noah said.

N grinned at the sandwich. "I think I can manage that much."

Having sandwiches for lunch slash breakfast had the distinct advantage of not dirtying many dishes. It took no time at all to clean up after themselves. N set the plate out to dry and turned around to Noah. "Was there anything you wanted to do today?"

"Nothing specific. What about you?"

He hadn't thought that far, was the truth. Patrol always gave him something to do, and on his off days that the queen had mandated he take he'd usually gone to see Valdi. He could do it today as well; perhaps rummaging in the bowels of a Levnis prototype was unwise with his arm being in such a frail state, but there would still be things for him to do. At the same time, it didn't feel like the right thing to do.

"I want to spend the day with you," he said instead.

"Like a date?" Noah asked.

A date...

It was a word N hadn't heard for a long time; not since he'd forsaken the City. He'd gone on dates with Mio then, in the limited capacity that the City had afforded them. Afterwards, neither of them had put the word in their mouths ever again.

"I'd like to go on a date with you," Noah continued, unaware of the somber turn N's thoughts had taken. "Mio and I never had the time, back then..."

And N said, in spite of his thoughts, "Then I'll have to show you the ropes, won't I?" which was a silly thing to say out-loud, but it made Noah smile so it was all good. Nevermind the fact that N didn't know what a date in this world would even be like. They had few public facilities to speak of at this point. Were they in the City right now, perhaps N would have taken him on a stroll along the open market street to get tornado wraps, maybe settle in at the community theatre if they were performing—if the City in the modern day had even still had that.

They could figure something out. It couldn't be that hard.

"Let's go for a walk, for a start?" he suggested.

N grabbed the house keys from the hook near the door, they settled down to fasten their shoes, and then Noah reached out and asked: "May I?"

His hands were gentle as he gathered N's hair and tied it into a ponytail with his red ribbon. His own hair flowed freely. It would be confusing to those they met along the way, but N found himself not caring. So what if they confused them for one another? They didn't need to hide how similar they looked. Did they?

"Shall we?" he asked, tracing a finger across the ponytail. It didn't feel as odd as it had the last time.

Walking side by side with Noah made the city seem like a different place. It changed nothing about all the empty houses, about the telltale signs that the people of this world had vanished from one moment to the next, but the streets no longer felt like a path between graves, not entirely. The signs of new people moving in had spread during the past weeks and months; this home's curtains had changed, that garden now held new ornaments, and some had taken to weeding the overgrown public greenery.

"Did you arrange that?" N asked as they passed by a pair busying themselves with cutting back a pair of bushes that had begun obstructing the path.

"I brought it up," Noah said. "It's not a priority, but we have plenty of people who found that they enjoy gardening, so..."

"Have you tried it?"

Noah shook his head.

"Then let's borrow some equipment and work on our own garden when we have a moment," N suggested. The grass was growing high and wild there too. It didn't seem like something a garden should look like—although they weren't bound by the short-cropped lawn the previous owners had favoured. They could experiment. Find their own style.

Noah's steps slowed as he watched the two gardeners go at it. "Do you think we can find some moonblooms to plant?" he asked after a moment. "Or something like them, if they don't exist in this world..."

"There are similar ones. I saw them on my patrols. Why moonblooms?"

"Mio said she liked them once. I thought..." Noah glanced at the greenery. "I thought we could pick some for her, for both of them, when we find a way to bridge the worlds."

Moonblooms, huh? They'd been common in Aionios. "I'll bring some back when I come across them next," he said. "You fetch us some gardening tools."

The world seemed brighter for Noah's smile. "It'll be a gardening date then. Is that a thing?"

"If it isn't," N said, "it should be."

It was a pleasant day for a walk, bright and sunny without being too warm. Stretching his legs after all the wobbliness of the prior day felt good. Eunie and Valdi had done an excellent job at patching him up, if the weakness had vanished so quickly. Not even the incline towards the city centre posed any real issues.

"It's a bit strange, isn't it?" Noah said, unprompted. "All of these houses are just... there. It was the same around the castles, but it's hard to imagine everyone just living their lives in one place."

"It's nice. You don't have to worry so much about where to break camp, or scouting out your new area, or what monsters there might be around. You can put your roots down this way." Like Triton had said. N looked up at the sky, watching the clouds pass. "I suppose living as a nomad in this world might not be so bad, though. You could go wherever you want to without thinking about strategy or the war effort..."

"Yeah, well, they call it camping in this world," Lanz said from behind.

It was something of a solace that Noah had the same reaction as N, who spun around, shoulders tense. Old habits didn't die so easily, even if he'd learned to let his attention lapse a little.

Lanz didn't seem to be offended, though he did cast an uneasy glance at Noah before focusing his attention back on N. "Should have announced myself, eh? Anyway, Noah..."

There was an awkward moment of silence as Lanz trailed off, looked at Noah, looked back at N, and then shook his head. "Spark, don't tell me you're going to do that on the regular now."

"I just felt like it," Noah said. He fidgeted as he spoke, but only a little bit.

"It's weird to see, man."

N half-raised his hand; he could undo the ponytail, it wasn't a big deal, but Noah spoke up before he did. "You've seen me with loose hair, Lanz," he said. "This is what I look like. I don't want to hide it."

Again Lanz looked back and forth between them. An apology lay heavy on N's tongue. He didn't want to cause discomfort—shouldn't be allowed to cause any discomfort, perhaps—but if Noah felt it wasn't an issue, how could he object?

"Ugh, fine," Lanz finally grumbled. "You better not pretend to be each other though. I draw the line there."

"It wouldn't fool anyone for long," N said. "I have no plans for it."

The way Lanz now looked at him betrayed even more unease, and N couldn't blame him for it. He remembered the way his Ouroboros' arms had constricted around him as they'd tried to sacrifice themselves to take him out...

"Heard you saved Noah yesterday." Lanz didn't quite meet his eyes, but neither did he turn away. "Thanks for that, I guess."

You don't need to thank me, N wanted to answer and then didn't. Instead, he nodded and said, "I'll keep him safe. You can trust me with that, if nothing else."

After another period of awkward silence, Lanz nodded back and then turned to Noah, for real this time. "Anyway," he said. "I've been looking for you. Masha says she wants to show you something."

"Must be about the memorial," Noah said. "I guess she's in the palace plaza, then? Do you want to come along?"

"Nah," Lanz said. "I got roped into helping set up the community centre. Feel free to stop by and help... I guess," he added with one last glance at N before wandering off.

"Sorry, I said I wanted to spend the day with you and now... Are you up for coming along?" Noah asked him. "If not, I—"

"Don't be stupid. Of course I'm coming."

And Noah's face lit up, like the sun peeking over the horizon. How much he must have looked forward to spending the day with him. A world where people had the choice to smile, Noah had said. And they'd made it happen.

The world seemed like a brighter place as they crossed the road and made for the plaza. Noah hummed to himself again, and N still couldn't place what made it different from the version Noah had written down for him, but he couldn't feel embarrassed over it. Not on a day like this.

"Say," he started when Noah took a break, then stopped himself and cocked his head. It was faint, but wasn't there someone...

"What's up?"

"Do you hear someone crying?"

Noah stopped. "It's coming from over there, I think." He motioned towards a corner where the street bent into a small alley; and indeed, that seemed to be where the sound was coming from. They started towards the alley at the same time. 'Round the corner, sitting on the front steps of an empty home, sat a boy, perhaps four or five years old, and cried his eyes out. He perked up when they approached, but didn't stop sniffling. By the looks of his reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks, he'd been like this for a while.

"Hey," N said as he sat down on the stairs next to the kid. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

The boy hiccuped and stared at him with wide eyes, then shook his head.

Good. No need to run and fetch a healer then, at least. "What's your name?" N asked.

"Abel."

"Do you want to tell us what's wrong, Abel? Maybe we can help."

But Abel only sniffled in response and dabbed at his eyes again.

"Where do you live?" N tried. "Can we take you home?"

"No! I'm never going back!"

Taken aback by the vehement response, N looked at the boy. True to his word, he seemed unharmed, so that couldn't be it… "Did you have a fight with your parents?" he asked.

The way Abel scowled told him he was right on the money even before he got an answer. It must have been a bad fight to make him run away, but then, to a child this young, every argument was potentially the worst argument they'd ever experienced.

"What did—" Noah interjected, but Abel didn't let him finish.

"I'm not telling you. You're just gonna tell me I'm wrong and she's right and I need to shut up."

Answering that particular question, and raising another issue to deal with. "Did your parents say that?" N asked.

Sullen silence. Just like back then, during the only serious argument he'd ever had with his son, in that time long gone and gone too soon... For a moment, N couldn't speak. Then he filed the memories. away for later, to share with Noah or sit with in silence by himself. Helping this child was more important here and now. And that meant winning his trust first.

He searched his pockets for a handkerchief and came up empty. "Noah," he started; but Noah was already ahead of him, pulling a handkerchief of his own out of his pocket and handing it to the boy. "Your face is all wet," he said. "How about we get that cleaned up first?"

Abel hiccuped, then took the handkerchief and dragged it over his face clumsily. It spread the tear stains further more than it cleaned them up, but going through the motions seemed to help him calm down; he stopped sniffling, and simply sat with slumped shoulders, staring at the handkerchief. "Thanks," he said.

"Don't mention it," Noah said. "Can we contact anyone else to come help you? Other relatives?"

"No. It's just me and mum. And I'm not going back to her."

No father. N swallowed. Wondered if he'd had a hand in that. But that wasn't important now anyway, was it? Here was a child who needed help first and foremost. Composure, he told himself, then, out-loud: "Have people told you to be quiet often?"

"Yeah, 'cause that's all grown-ups do," Abel said. Sulking, or laced with the edge of genuine hurt? Was there a difference to him?

"I don't think you should be quiet," N said.

That got Abel to perk up, lips parted as if to say something that had slipped his mind in the motion.

"I can't say if you're right or wrong, not without knowing what you even argued about. But you're clearly genuinely upset. It's not good to stew in silence..." N watched Abel for signs of being willing to talk, but it seemed he wasn't quite there yet, so he continued, "You don't have to talk to me or Noah here—you don't have to talk to strangers about anything if you're uncomfortable with it, you know. But if talking about it would make you feel better, I'll listen and I won't tell you to shut up, either."

Abel sniffed. "Promise?"

"Promise." Then N fell silent, waiting for Abel to take the lead.

"I hate it here," Abel eventually said. He didn't meet their eyes as he spoke, instead opting to talk to his pulled up knees. "I want to go home."

This was a child who'd been born in the City, and who possibly had never set foot outside of it—N had a hazy recollection from Noah that the City had no longer allowed children that young to leave, for their own safety. A child who'd barely had the chance to see the sky, who'd grown used to the comfort of steel walls all around...

"I didn't get to keep anything. I miss my bed, and the playground just around the corner, and..." Abel's lip had started trembling again. He didn't continue.

"I get it," N said.

"You do?"

N nodded. "We all lost something in the Separation. Some of it temporarily. Other things permanently. It's not wrong to grieve for them."

Abel looked at his knees. "Mum says I should be happy to be here."

And he should be. All of them should. No matter the difficulties, no matter the grief, life in this world was so much better than it ever had been in Aionios. But even then, they all needed space to process the sorrows of parting, of loss; and this child had never gotten a say in whether to stay or leave, unlike him. "It's better to be here than in Aionios," he said quietly. "That doesn't mean you can't feel sad over the things you had to leave behind."

"I want it back..."

"I know," N said. "And you can't even talk about it properly, right? You try and you try to find the right words, but none of them come close to describing how hollow it feels to wake up in the morning searching for something that's no longer with you." He paused then, and looked at Abel; had he gotten too personal, or too mature for him? But no, Abel only nodded vigorously.

"So you try to push past it, to get through your day regardless, but sometimes... sometimes you can't. It becomes too much to bear. You must have reached that point today."

Silence after that. Abel's tiny fingers dug into his knees, scrunching up the fabric covering them. Out of the corner of his eyes N saw Noah shift, but he chose to stay quiet.

"My dad died a year ago today," Abel finally said, each word sounding like he had to force it out. "And I woke up and thought I had to visit his grave and now I can't even..."

And that was a feeling N was intimately familiar with. There could have been a grave, a memorial for his son somewhere within Aionios. He'd searched for a time after becoming Moebius and regaining his memories of being a father, but he'd never found it. He'd never built one, either. Couldn't bring himself to do it with his bloodstained hands.

Now—he thought—maybe now he could finally do it, a thousand years later.

"I'm sorry," he said to Abel. "It's hard enough to lose a loved one, but to lose even that connection to them... You have every right to be sad. It's only natural."

"Did you lose someone close to you too, mister?"

N nodded. "Some are in the other world now. Others... aren't."

"Mum said it doesn't matter. That dad wasn't buried there anyway so it changes nothing."

Poor kid. There was every chance it had been nothing more than a misunderstanding; an attempt by his mother to make it easier on him that had backfired completely. "If it matters to you, it matters to you," N said. "What doesn't matter is if that makes sense to anyone else. But, are you sure that's what your mother meant?"

"I..."

"Look," N continued when Abel didn't. "I can't presume to know what happened between you. But couldn't it be that she tried to console you, rather than snub your feelings?"

"You think so?" Abel asked. He sounded small, for lack of better word.

"I think it's possible, and that we won't know until you and your mother talk about what happened." N paused. "But before that. An... acquaintance is building a memorial for those we lost as we speak. We were about to go see her. Do you want to come along and ask her to add your father's name to the memorial?"

Abel didn't so much perk up as unfolded from his previously distraught posture. "Can we do that?" he asked, words tripping over each other. "Can we really?"

"Yes," N said. "I see no reason not to. We're doing this to remember the departed, after all."

Abel didn't stop thanking them on the way. It must have been hard on him to lose his father and his father's resting place so quickly in succession. Seeing him, N found himself wondering if it had been like this for his son as well. If he'd visited his grave often, or if he'd preferred to stay away and avoid the reminder. If either behaviour had changed as he'd grown older—how old he'd grown to begin with. More things he would never know for sure; more pangs of sorrow over having to leave him behind.

The metal sculpture had grown in size since N had last come to the plaza, now towering at nearly twice the height of a man. The names inscribed on it, taken from the registry Melia had provided and the recollection of the people, covered nigh on every square inch, written in tiny letters. It must have been the only way to fit every name and even so it looked as if Masha was on the verge of running out of space again. Yet, despite that, she was perfectly amenable to adding another when Abel made his request, and carved the name into the metal on a low corner where the boy would be able to read it.

And then, as Abel sat before the new carving, N made his request to Masha, speaking a name that hadn't left his mouth in well over a thousand years—but a name that still lingered, in memories he'd never let go of. None but Noah and him would be able to appreciate the significance of the tiny name Masha inscribed upon the monument until the day they bridged the two worlds, but that was enough.

It was enough.

"Say, Masha," Noah asked afterwards. "What did you want to ask me anyway?"

"Ah! Yes. I wanted your opinion on the timing and setup of the grand unveiling."

N glanced at the monument, standing tall and proud right in the centre of the city's most frequented plaza.

"Yes, yes, you've all seen," Masha said airily. "It still deserves a proper inauguration, don't you think?"

A fair point. N nodded, and then both he and Masha looked at Noah, who looked back at N and vehemently shook his head. "You are not pinning this only on me."

"I shouldn't—" N started, then cut himself short when Noah gave him a razor-sharp look. Not allowing that excuse to fly anymore, was he?

It didn't feel right to decide. This wasn't his future—it wasn't something he'd ever intended to be part of. He was simply along for the ride. But if Noah insisted, well...

"When do you expect to be ready?" he asked Masha.

"A week, I'd say. Maybe a day or two on top."

So two weeks, then. Plenty of time to organise a proper inauguration. "Start gathering people who want to talk about the departed," he said. "About those left behind in Aionios, and those who disappeared from the old world. We'll need to tally the count and assign speaking slots. For that matter, we need to determine how long the ceremony should be in the first place, and how to decide who gets to speak if too many apply." The days were growing longer now, but there were still only so many hours in a day and it would only spark discontent to drag the inauguration out over several days.

Neither of the two said anything in response. "What?" he asked.

"That was a bit more comprehensive than I expected," Noah said, and sounded entirely too pleased with himself. "But it sounds good."

"It should, because I will pin that work on you."

Noah laughed. "Okay, fair enough. I'll see what I can do. Masha, keep me updated on your progress, alright?"

"Yes," Masha said.

And that meant their shared day had come to an end. Sad as that was, it was unavoidable. Days off were a luxury for those not injured—for those who were as well, for that matter. He could go on ahead and think about dinner while Noah made his preparations—

"I'll get started on asking people tomorrow then," Noah said.

"Right," Masha said. "Do forgive me for bothering you on your day off—please do enjoy the rest of it!"

Or that. That worked, too.

On the way home, Noah took N's hand as they walked, entwining his fingers with N's. It brought back memories of peaceful walks with Mio, a thousand years ago and then some. These were golden memories of a time marred by fear of the future, and this present... this present was a golden time marred by guilt of the past. The scars left on Noah's knuckles were right there, next to N's fingers.

Yet, in the end, could you even have a present without the past and the future?

"I'm sorry about that," Noah said. "We got interrupted..."

"It's fine. I don't mind. We have time."

The gardeners they had seen when they'd left the house crossed the street before them. One of the two glanced over, then did a double take upon seeing their entwined hands. Almost, N pulled his hand away.

Almost.

Noah didn't seem to mind; he only closed his hand more tightly around N's. So unconcerned with appearances. Something for N to aspire to. The show of affection—of weakness, to some—discomfited him even now.

"It's so comfortable like this," Noah said quietly. "Different from spending time with Mio..."

"It's fine if you prefer it. I—"

"I didn't say that." Noah squeezed his hand. "Being with Mio is like... like looking at the sun, sometimes. It's exhilarating and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, or the other world, or any other world... but it's also overwhelming, you know?"

He did know. It was akin to soaring, which always came with the risk of falling. "You're right," N said. "It doesn't feel that way with you. It's more like sitting in front of a hearth..."

"...warm and comforting, right?"

"No pretending," N continued the thought, "no need to hold anything back... Having been the same person frees us from that." Even the Interlink had never gone that deep. What he and Noah had now was unique—except, perhaps, for their Mios. Maybe their relationship in the other world was the same.

"Right. I don't need to pretend I don't have flaws and weaknesses with Mio either, but you already know everything..."

"...and you," N said, "saw me at my worst and still chose to accept me. I know you won't turn your back on me if I struggle."

"I would never," Noah said earnestly. Such faith did he have in N that he couldn't picture a future in which N strayed too far from his path again.

So he wouldn't. No matter the temptation, he couldn't betray that trust.

"You inspire me, you know?" Noah continued as they walked up to their house.

"Me?"

Noah took his time to answer, pulling the keys out of his pocket and unlocking the door, then waving N inside before following himself. "You told me once that the world didn't need two of us," he eventually said.

The painful sting of being reminded of his deeds and words were simply the price he paid for the life he now lived. Just desserts, as it were. "I was wrong," he said, a little too loudly.

"More than you know." If it hurt Noah to talk about these things, he didn't show it. In fact, he smiled as he undid his boots and pulled them off. "If not for you, I wouldn't have been able to take the final step. I'd have become Moebius."

"You would have—"

"—become Moebius, yes. There, at the end, when the queens gave us a choice, I wanted things to stay as they were. I really did." Noah paused, hand still on his boot. "But if you could learn to move forward again after everything that happened, then I... I could take that step, even if it scared me. So I did, and here we are. Thanks to you."

N didn't know where to look. His face felt hot. "You think too much of me. It was you six who freed us all from Aionios, not me. I'm... the embodiment of all our flaws, not—not something to aspire to."

"Shut up. It was us six and everyone who helped us. That includes you. Dinner?"

N wanted to argue. Noah was wrong to credit him with that; he knew it, Noah should know it, everyone else would confirm it.

But if Noah wanted dinner, then there was dinner to make. So he didn't.

Noah thankfully didn't broach the subject again after they'd finished eating. Instead, he looked at N, arms still in the wash water, and said, "How do you feel about playing a duet?"

N paused drying his hands and looked at them, shrumpled from the water as they were. "I doubt I'm skilled enough for that."

"Says who?"

Says N, but N was prone to being wrong about things. "I can try, I suppose," he said.

"That's all you need to do. If it doesn't work out we'll just try again tomorrow." Noah dried his hands off as well and went to fetch their flutes.

A duet. Like the off-seeing melody Noah and Mio had played together so often. Noah hadn't taught him that melody and N hadn't asked to learn it, but it would take a fool not to see the parallel. Though Noah had made light of the possibility of failure, would he take it that well if it actually came to be? Or would he...

No, he absolutely would, N told himself. He couldn't keep clinging to his fears, always assuming the worst outcome.

When Noah returned, he accepted his flute from him. "I'm no good at sight-reading," he said. He'd tried with the melody Noah had written down for him and had failed miserably. The mental link between sheet music and fingering simply wasn't firm enough for him yet, despite his memories of Noah's lessons.

"You won't need to." Noah grasped his own flute and raised it to his lips. "The practice song I taught you is part of a duet. Just play it as you always have and I'll do the rest."

It was part of a duet? That, N could not recall. Strange how the memories came and went sometimes. Still, he had a reasonably solid grasp on that melody. He could do that much.

He put the blowhole on his lips, then rolled the flute down until it rested on his chin. One by one his fingers fell on the holes, reminding him of where they needed to go. He lifted half of them again, took a deep breath, then blew over the hole.

The note was breathy, but it was there. He held it a moment too long, but fell into the rhythm as he transitioned to the next notes.

Then Noah joined in and for a wonderful moment, their flutes were in perfect harmony, a clear sound echoing through their home. Of course, N fumbled the very next note, didn't blow hard enough or maybe too hard or maybe at the wrong angle so it didn't come out, and the sound of Noah's flute by himself made him wince. Still he persisted, even though he wanted to put the flute down and apologise for messing up.

It was a clumsy duet, all in all. Noah had to adjust to his mistakes time and again. Even so, when they lowered their flutes, Noah smiled, and so did N.

"You're improving," Noah said.

"Ha... Maybe one day I'll play alongside you without so many mistakes."

"And maybe we'll play something you came up with then." Noah looked at the flute in his hands, turned it over a few times. "And maybe I'll be calling you by a different name, if that's what you want."

N stilled. A different name. It wasn't that he hadn't considered it, but— "I don't have an answer to that yet. But I might soon. Perhaps."

Was he N? Was he Noah? Someone else?

Who did he want to be?

He held on to the question, but shelved it for tomorrow. There was no need to answer it right now. Today, he wanted to spend time with his partner.

In the ensuing silence, his gaze wandered. The house had become familiar; the soft couch they slept on with the fuzzy blanket keeping them warm at night, the kitchen counters they'd grown more comfortable using, the table upon which they ate.

The table upon which stood the photo of the couple that had inhabited this place before them. Even beside that, their presence lingered. The other day, N had chanced upon a set of knitting needles and tightly coiled wool in a cupboard. Which one of them had used them? Which one of them had hung up the landscape painting on the wall next to the window? Had they both worked together to fill the bookshelf occupying the wall next over, or had it been one of them primarily?

He'd never know. Maybe knowing would be worse.

"We should send them off," he said unprompted, thinking back to his earlier thoughts, weeks and weeks ago. Noah quirked an eyebrow, then followed his gaze to the framed photo. There was a jerkiness to the motion that N hadn't seen on him in a while.

"I haven't sent anyone off since the Separation."

Right. Nobody they'd known had died yet—there had been no reason for it. But for Noah, who had played even for his enemies, to balk now, there had to be something deeper than a lack of practice going on. N leaned forward, peering intently at Noah, and asked, "Are you afraid it won't be the same?"

Noah laughed, breathlessly, almost startled. "Got it in one," he said. "I don't know what it means, to see someone off in this world. If I can do it at all."

In the light shining through the window, the scars on Noah's knuckles stood out against his skin, against the flute he held. It should have been Crys to discuss this with Noah, or Mio, or any of the other off-seers of Aionios, but Noah had chosen N to confide him.

"I can't say what it means," N said, gazing at his own, unblemished hands. "I'm no off-seer. I can't be the one imbuing it with meaning. But isn't that what you've been doing the entire time?" He shrugged, still not looking up. "I shouldn't talk. I never thought it had any meaning at all. But to the extent that it did, it was because of the feelings you imbued into it. So, for the time being, can't that meaning be searching for what it means?"

He fell silent then. These had been a lot of words from someone who'd professed not to have any desire to define any meanings. Yet, Noah didn't call him out on it. He loosened his grip on the flute and nodded. "Maybe... yes. Maybe searching for the meaning is appropriate right now." Then he smiled. "If things had gone differently, you'd have made a fine off-seer."

N swallowed his protests and nodded. Maybe he would have. He'd never know, now. "Should we—you—do it outside?" he asked.

"What place do you think they held most dear, in a home like this?"

Something else they'd never know, nor could they ask. N gazed at the room. The two had left their touches here aplenty, but they'd done so in their bedroom too, and in the garden, even in the bathroom, in ways both mundane and extraordinary. Here was the calendar with their appointments pencilled in, there the little glass bunnit one might have bought for the other. Mio and he had never been able to accumulate this much... life. Time had always run out, and once they'd escaped their allotted ten years neither of them had even tried to.

Even so, he'd once lived in a house like this, had done so many times. If this had been his home and someone were looking to commemorate him, which place would he want it to be?

"Right here," he said.

"Right here?"

N nodded. "You must have noticed, right? That this is where life happens. This is where we spent the most time together, cook together, eat together, and it must have been the same for them—what better place than this?"

"Okay," Noah said. Just that, with a smile. How odd a feeling, to have that kind of trust placed in him.

In the end, they didn't clear the space; the furniture remained where it was, borderline cramped in the living room. This was the way Mel'iren and Galtryth had set it up, and thus ought to be the way they were remembered. They stood by the table then, facing the photo, and when N tried to take a step back, Noah grabbed him by the arm and shook his head.

Together, then.

Noah raised the flute to his lips, and the first notes of the off-seeing melody echoed through the room, bright and clear, cascading as his fingers fell, triumphantly rising as he lifted them. The sheer depth of his skill struck N once again as he listened. Such a far cry from his own clumsy attempts this was; yet this time, the thought didn't discourage him. Rather, it made him want to practise, so that he could reach such heights in his own time as well.

For now, though, he listened and thought of the pair that had preceded them. There were no motes rising up to the sky—that had been a property of Aionios—but they weren't needed. They'd only ever been a manifestation of their feelings, anyway.

And what did he feel about these people he'd never met? Guilt. A distant sort of grief, so different from the raw edge digging into his heart that he'd experienced countless times. Gratitude, for their lives' work now enabled them to thrive.

As the final note resounded, he made a silent promise to do the same—to maintain the peace and life of this place, this world, so that those who would come after him would reap the fruits just as he had.

When Noah stopped playing and lowered his flute, N took his hand, ran his thumb over the scars and smiled. They didn't need to say anything. Just being here, sharing this, was enough.

Chapter Text

Noah wasn't in the house when N woke, but he'd left a note on the kitchen table about meeting up with Lanz and Eunie. Just as well. He had errants of his own to run, and Noah didn't need to waste his time coming along. A shower—a quick breakfast—getting dressed—and then he was off towards the industrial district.

Instead of heading straight to Valdi's place, N took a small detour over to a different kind of workshop, wherehe clanging of hammer on metal reached his ears even from outside, and indeed, when N entered, he found Riku busy hammering away on an anvil. N cleared his throat. Riku didn't acknowledge his presence for another minute before finally putting the hammer down and turning around.

"What N want?" he asked.

"Your sword broke while I was—"

If Nopon eyes could bulge, Riku's surely would have at that moment. "Broke sword? Broke sword? That finest example of Nopon craftsmanship you broke!"

If a tude's jaw had been able to break it in two, that was doubtful. Pointing that out would likely get him kicked out of the workshop though, so N held his tongue. "It was a tude," he explained. "It bit down on the sword."

Riku harrumphed. "Should try harder not to let tude bite on sword next time. Then sword not break."

Why exactly was the most capable weaponsmith they had left such an insufferable little... N took a deep breath. "I'll need a new sword," he said. "Please."

"Why make sword if just going to break again next time tude appears? Noah didn't break sword. Only N did."

He could have argued that tudes rarely ventured that close to New Alcamoth. He could have argued that Noah's staying intact had been mere luck. He even could have argued that the sword breaking had been instrumental in killing the tude in the end. None of those would get anywhere with Riku. Instead, he grit his teeth and said, "I'm sorry. I'll try my best not to break the next one."

"Hm..." Riku squinted at him. "Will believe N this time. May not believe the next. Issue would not have happened if had not discarded Lucky Seven, also."

"I was dead, Riku."

"That nothing more than excuse. Should try not being dead next time, too."

There came a point in every conversation N had with Riku where he wondered if Riku was intentionally messing with him. This time, Riku continuing without waiting for an answer spared him the need to think of a response.

"Anyway, if N is Noah, then decision of Noah reflect back on N as well. N should take share of responsibility for loss of Lucky Seven."

Strange logic that veered into philosophical topics on the subject of personhood and identity that N had no desire to discuss with Riku. Or anyone else other than Noah, frankly. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "Will you make a new sword for me?"

"Fine. Riku will make sword. Will deliver to house when done." Riku turned his back on him and resumed hammering on the anvil. It was as good a dismissal as any, so N bid him goodbye, which Riku might or might not have heard over the clanging, and left the workshop.

Valdi's own workshop wasn't far from here, a few blocks past empty buildings and storehouses. Inside, Valdi and Segiri stood leaning over the prototype of the farm helper. At the sound of his footsteps past the open front gate, Segiri looked up. "Your timing is excellent," she said in lieu of a greeting. "Requesting assistance with an issue that previously occurred."

Valdi looked up as well. "Oh! Hi N! Yeah, your timing is great, can you look this over with us? Oh, er, how is your arm, by the way?"

"It's healing," N said. He didn't especially want to stick it into the innards of a machine and risk scratching the barely closed skin, but that didn't preclude looking at whatever issue they had. "Is it still the moisture detection?" he asked as he joined them in the centre of the workshop.

"Yup. I recalibrated the probe according to the soil sample Zeon gave me which he said was 'ideally moist' so now it gives the correct readings, but... er, just see for yourself." Valdi reached over and engaged the mechanism, which whirred to life and lowered the probe rod into the pot of soil standing underneath. The meter they'd installed in the outer casing of the robot in case someone wanted live readings and not just the logs counted up to a low percentage, and though N didn't know much about soil moisture it looked accurate enough. He was about to ask what the issue was when the robot emitted a beep and the pot shattered under the pressure of the rod still descending. Soil scattered across the workshop floor.

"It just doesn't stop," Valdi said. "Well, it does here because of the floor, but if we try it outside, it breaks out of the holding."

"What is the issue? Just install a safety measure to prevent it from going too far."

"That has been attempted," Segiri said. "We have determined that the issue lies in the programming attempting to bypass the hardware, rather than the hardware itself."

For someone who'd only barely begun to dip her feet into the world of engineering, Segiri had assimilated the lingo quickly. As for the issue itself: N knew why he had always preferred the manual controls of Kevesi Levnises. He distinctly recalled similar problems cropping up whenever they'd developed new Agnian ones. Seeing how neither Valdi nor Segiri had any firsthand experience with Agnian Levnises, that presumably made him the most qualified to diagnose the issue despite his relative inexperience with writing the software himself.

Let me see the code, he wanted to say, but Valdi cut in before he got the words out.

"It reminds me a bit of when I tinkered with Agnian Levnises, trying to get the automation logic to work—"

"How did you have the opportunity to work with Agnian Levnises?"

"Oh, well, after we made peace with Colony Iota they handed some of them over to us—mostly the defective ones, now that I think about it, but I still learned a lot from them!" Valdi touched the log terminal of the robot. "I used that to write the software for this one... hey, do you think that's the issue? Using Agnian-style code with this type of machine?"

Incredible. Moebius had gone to great lengths to keep the technology of each side out of the other's hands to ensure a relative equilibrium in the war, and they'd been successful at it for the thousand years and then some N had been among them. Oh, certainly, there had been slip-ups, it was unavoidable when operating at the scale of Aionios, but they'd always been quick to rectify any mistakes, by force if necessary. Then a new crop of Ouroboros had come along and—no, it hadn't just been them. Valdi and the commander of Colony Iota had chosen to make peace and collaborate, something once considered to be unthinkable.

Even in the frozen moment of Aionios, change had forged its own path.

"Well," he said. "Let's have a look at the code, then."

Valdi pulled it up on a screen and N found himself faced with the spectre of someone whose ability in writing software vastly eclipsed that in documenting said software. Line after line after line of code scrolled past with nary a comment or explanation on what any of it did. The naming scheme Valdi had employed, or rather hadn't employed, was of no help either.

"Scroll back up," he said. "What is 'hrvstFruAcrdLogFile'?

"Oh, that? Harvest fruit according to log file," Valdi said as though it was perfectly self-evident. "I thought it was getting pretty long and annoying to type, so..."

The integrated development environments of this world came with all the same autocomplete capabilities as the ones in Aionios had provided. N chose not to point that out at this juncture. The function was unlikely to have anything to do with their present issue, anyway.

Not that the code that did relate to measuring moisture or extending the meter into the ground revealed anything to him. Including, as it were, how it actually worked. Squinting, he scanned the lines of code for any semblance of understanding to no avail. A quick glance at Segiri revealed that her expression was as impassive as ever, but her own gaze seemed fixed on one particular line as if she, too, was grappling with its meaning.

This was intolerable.

"Valdi," N said, "you need to work on making your code readable."

"Aw man, Yuzet always says that too."

"He is correct. If you want help on your project, you can sparking well learn to make your code presentable."

"Woah," Valdi said. "I think that's the first time I heard you swear."

He didn't sound hurt about it. N stilled anyway. He'd never been one to swear overmuch, and had lost the habit completely over the years. "My apologies," he said.

"Nah, you are right." Valdi sighed. "I just don't get how I'm supposed to do it, is all. I look at my code and it all makes perfect sense to me. Look, here—this part is obvious, right, it's for computing the input from the meter—"

It was a jumbled mess. Much like the entire workshop, in fact. Tools strewn about, materials haphazardly stacked, when had Valdi last cleaned up in here? It merited a reprimand...

But what was he thinking? He was in no position to do that anymore. "How about we just go through it together," he said instead, stifling a sigh.

It took a while, due to Valdi's tendency to get distracted, but little by little the code became less messy, and by the end Valdi didn't even need much prompting anymore to swap the incomprehensible abbreviations for something more obvious. They even stumbled across the bug they'd originally tried to find by complete accident. An issue with the feedback from the probe had rendered the data stream empty, which prevented the program from recognising when the probe had been fully extended. A quick dive into the output format solved the issue, and the next test run was a full success.

In that it didn't break the replacement pot, at least.

Valdi cheered. A moment later, Segiri joined in, though with rather less overt enthusiasm. N contented himself with a smile.

"Was that the last remaining issue?" he asked.

"Yep! Now we can show Zeon the prototype!"

"How much have you tested it, exactly?"

"Er. Hm. I think it was enough?"

N glanced outside. It had grown late in the afternoon, after having spent so long listening to Valdi explain his own code to them. "How about you spend tomorrow doing some final testing."

"Hm, guess you have a point. Yeah, let's do that tomorrow. Hangout time?"

"I'll see y—" N started before Valdi's last two words sank in. "Hangout?"

"Sure. We have nothing else left to do, right?"

N hadn't 'hung out' with his engineers, of course. He'd been a Consul; they'd been rank and file, due to expire in a few short years. In the times before, perhaps... but if he'd managed it with Noah, he could manage it with Valdi and Segiri.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked.

Investigating the wildlife, apparently.

"Oh, look at this one!" Valdi exclaimed while circling around an eluca, which didn't seem concerned with the attention as it continued eating its way through a tree's worth of leaves. "They're similar to the ones we had around Colony 30, but the colouring is different and I think this one has more hairs!"

Who'd have thought the mechanic had such an interest in biology.

"You've been to Erythia Sea in Aionios, right, N? What about you, Segiri?"

"Affirmative," Segiri said. "After the fall of Colony 0, operations were shifted to Li Garte prison, which lay empty at the time."

Owing to the proximity to Agnus Castle, the area had been firmly in Agnus' grasp. As a colony soldier, N had seldom gone and on those occasions had rarely stayed long. In the City, expeditions close to the castles had been far and few between for good reason. And as Moebius... well. Visiting M had never put him in the mood for sight-seeing. "She probably remembers more than I do," he said and left it at that.

"My apologies. I am not familiar with the specifics of Eluca biology. I can confirm the colouring is different, but am unable to provide further information."

"That's okay," Valdi said as cheerfully as ever. "I can ask other people later. I bet Triton's been all over Erythia Sea!"

"Have you always been interested in this?" N asked as Valdi circled the Eluca together with Segiri.

Valdi produced a measuring tape from his pocket and held it against the eluca's antenna. "Not always. I noticed how cool all this was when I worked with Isurd—that's the commander of—"

"—Colony Lambda, yes." Hard not to be familiar with him, after J's little stunt with the colony. Just how many Agnian commanders had Valdi made friends with, anyway?

"I was helping him with some stuff, and that's when I noticed how cool all this is. They react to us and their environment, change their behaviour... well, usually at least, this one doesn't seem to care about us..."

It was such an obvious conclusion. Of course they did; what else were they supposed to do? But in the eyes of a colony soldier who'd never known anything else, maybe it was just that special. Segiri certainly seemed to agree, as she took note of everything the two observed with unwavering attention.

Faced with that, how could N just stand by?

"This tree existed in Erythia Sea, or at least a species very close to this," he said. The fruits were edible, so they'd been propagated in the prison yards. "I don't recall the Erythia elucas feeding on it, but I'm hardly a biologist. Do you know anything about it, Segiri?"

Segiri sat and pondered, eyes cast downward, a finger on her lips. "Affirmative," she announced eventually. "I believe I have seen this while patrolling the former prison yard. Inference: This eluca and the Erythia Sea variant have similar nutritional requirements."

"Man," Valdi said, "I wish I knew how all that stuff with Origin worked..."

"Recommended course of action: Querying Queen Melia. Past experience indicates she might be amenable to explain."

"You think she'd explain? She's so busy all the time, though... I don't want to bother her." Valdi looked up from his measuring tape. "I don't suppose you know, N?"

"Not in the slightest. Z never told us anything of how Origin worked." To this day, N couldn't even be sure how much Z had known of its working. Being born of the souls sleeping within, had he been granted knowledge that surpassed the boundaries of Aionios? Or had he been denied that just as much as everyone else?

Next to Valdi, Segiri had laid her pen and paper down on the grassy plain and now looked up at N. "Requesting information," she said. "I am interested in the experience of serving under Z, if you are amenable to sharing your knowledge."

N stilled. Nobody had asked him that—not since they'd all woken up in this world, and not before either. Perhaps Noah would have, but he was the one person who didn't need to. Not after seeing for himself.

What had it been like? It was hard to put into words.

"You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to," Valdi said.

"Affirmative. It was a request. Thi—I don't have the authority to give orders to you."

"I know," N said. "I want to." It was his past, full of shameful deeds and sorrow; it was what had led to him becoming the person he was today, for better or worse. It had led to Noah existing, and perhaps for that alone it had almost—almost—been worth it. Therefore, he didn't want to keep silent about it. Not permanently, and not fully.

"The days blurred into each other," he began after another moment of deliberation. "Time passed, and I barely took notice." If not for his work as head consul, perhaps he would have lost track of it altogether. As it was, at times he'd woken up in the morning only to realise an entire year had passed by without seeing M. He'd told himself then that it didn't matter; they had eternity, and in the face of that what was one measly year?

He'd been a fool.

"I suppose it might be hard for you to imagine," he continued. "But in those days, nothing ever seemed to change. Living became routine. Rote, even." And so the years had passed by in a haze. He'd gained the eternity he'd wanted and found it empty.

"And Z..." He paused for a moment, groping for the right words. "Z loomed over everything. He always watched us. Or perhaps there was never any way to know he wasn't watching at any given moment." But that still fell short of what it had actually been like to be Moebius under Z.

The eluca crawled away from the tree as he grappled for a way to convey the sheer outsized presence Z had held in his life. "He was... he was everything," he settled on eventually. "As much a benevolent saviour as a spiteful enemy. He liberated me from the cycle, and then..." He lowered his gaze to the ground. The things he had done as Moebius had been his choice. He could have left and didn't. But was it so wrong to say that Z had led him to those choices? Was it dodging accountability again?

"He brought out the worst in me," he said, still not meeting their eyes. "Always prodding, pushing me to go just a step further than I was willing the day before... and I went along with it, every step of the way."

Of course, the very first step—destroying the City and murdering its people—had already been more than he should have taken.

"I am reminded of Consul F, who led Colony 0," Segiri announced into the silence. "In hindsight analysis, I am able to see the way his orders continually escalated."

"That's not the same."

"Please elaborate on the difference."

I'm Moebius, N wanted to say. Actions of one who had stood outside of the system and benefited from it couldn't be compared to one who lived within it and felt its coercions. But then, at the start, he hadn't been Moebius, had he?

"I benefited from it in a way you never could have," he said quietly. "But maybe in this, F and Z were not so different—and maybe neither were we, all the way back before I settled into being a consul."

"I would like to continue talking about this matter," Segiri said. "When we are not outside of the city's boundaries at nightfall."

A fair point. It was growing darker by the minute.

"I don't have nearly as much of a stake in this all," Valdi said, "seeing how my own Consul was a right mudder but didn't do any of that, but if you want someone else to talk about it... well, you know where to find me."

It was ridiculous of a sixth termer to offer; and that was a line of thought N no longer wanted to entertain. "Thank you," he said and he meant it.

"Anytime." Valdi packed away his measuring tape and then smiled up at N. "That's what friends are for, right?"

Friends. It had been a long, long time since N had truthfully been able to call another his friend; though they were by all accounts friends, it felt odd to call it that even now. "You can come to me about engineering issues, too. I can't promise I'll be able to help, but I can at least try."

"That's great, because I already have loads of other ideas for things to build..."

Valdi didn't stop talking for the entire rest of the way. N surprised himself by not feeling annoyed by it. When had he last tolerated being talked at like this? He was changing, little by little.

The only question was, whom was he changing into?

"This is your farm helper?" Zeon asked, circling the Levnis planted in the middle of the freshly tilled and seeded field. His voice was passive; his face even more so. This was not a man who easily let on what he felt, which perfectly matched the impression N had gleaned from Noah's memories.

It was strange for people he'd never met to feel so familiar, even now.

"Yep!" Valdi said. "He autonomously checks field conditions, waters the crops as needed and sends alerts if something's wrong that he can't fix by himself."

Zeon gazed at the farm helper without responding. The early morning light glinted off of the chassis; out here in the field, there was nothing to block the sunlight. Not even other people. Zeon had neglected to invite any of his co-workers, and nobody else had cared enough to attend the demonstration.

The entire time he had not cast even a single glance at N, who felt a lingering regret that he'd accepted Valdi's request to come. He'd helped build it, certainly; he was still not needed to showcase the final prototype. He knew from Noah's memories that Zeon's colony had hungered after being cut off from castle supplies. Having the former head consul of Keves present to him something meant to help with farming would feel like mockery, even if N had never personally been involved in that order.

"Well, let's give it a try," Zeon eventually said.

Valdi, grinning broadly, hit a few keys on the robot's interface. It whirred to life, its display showing the various initialisation notices that N had personally rephrased after Valdi had entered another round of shorthands only comprehensible to him.

"So I heard that you had trouble with plant diseases before, yeah?" Valdi said. "He can check for that too. Do you want to see?"

Zeon nodded, and Valdi engaged the robot. For a moment it spun in place, then its movement sensors engaged properly and it whirred off to the nearest crop. What were they even growing here? N hadn't asked, nor did he recognise the budding sprouts.

The sensor arm swung over the plant. Valdi had done most of the heavy lifting in writing the code controlling it, and the component had been swiped from an existing Levnis of this new world. It was a cobbled together machine, but that was only appropriate. They'd all come from a cobbled together world, and brought their patchwork lives into this one.

And somehow, everything still worked. The sensor beeped, the display lit up, and judging by Zeon's approving nod the information shown on it was accurate. "It's true this one has been plagued by lice," he said. "Not to a degree we weren't able to deal with, but if we hadn't noticed they'd have eaten away at the leaves undeterred. Automating check-ups will be... helpful. How long did it take you to build this?"

"Couple months. It would have been longer if not for them helping." Valdi motioned towards Segiri and N. The gesture prompted Zeon to glance at Segiri and then, at last, at N as well.

"Clarification," Segiri said. "I did not join until late in the development process. Valdi and N completed most of the work before then."

There was an uncomfortably long moment of silence before, finally, Zeon nodded towards N. "Thank you for the work, then. We have some leftover produce if you'd like to help yourself."

N almost said no, that wasn't necessary; he didn't need to skip the queue and get things from the source. That was until Zeon added, "The remainder of the heart peach harvest needs to go before it goes bad anyway."

Heart peaches, of all things.

"Is that alright with you?" N asked.

"I would have thought you were used to taking more than your fair share."

N winced, then shushed Valdi who'd launched into protest. "I am," he said. "Therefore, it's more important that I try not to fall back into old habits."

Zeon nodded, and a part of N bristled. Could Zeon not at least have employed something more sophisticated, if he had to test him at all? But that was a fool's reaction. He accepted the armful of heart peaches, nodded back to Zeon and said his goodbyes to Segiri and Valdi, who wanted to stay behind to further instruct Zeon in how to use the farm helper.

It was a good day, crisp and cloudy, and if the food was unwieldy to carry without a basket, what did it matter? He still had two healthy arms to bring it home—maybe to cook something with it to surprise Noah, if he wasn't yet home—

Melia rounded a corner in front of him and stilled at his sight. "Good morning," she said amicably. "Gone shopping for food during your recovery?"

"Zeon gave it to me, as thanks for helping with the farm Levnis." N glanced at the armful of food. It must look a little strange for him to walk the street carrying fresh produce. Most of the yields were meant to go to the canteen, after all.

"What will you make with it?"

"I don't know yet," N said. "Something for Noah. He likes them."

A look of sadness crept onto Melia's face and disappeared as soon as he'd noticed. "I'm glad it's still being farmed. Someone I knew also had a fondness of it..."

Someone who had since vanished without a trace—a few months ago, or a few thousand years. "It must have been hard on you," N said quietly. "To be the only one left."

At that, Melia smiled, tinged with the same sadness. "It is, I cannot lie. Even though it is not the first time I have found those around me gone from this world, it never gets any easier. Thank you for your concern. I will be fine."

Not 'I am fine'. 'Will be'. "I doubt you'll look to me for support," he said, "but if you're in need of someone to talk to..." He shrugged, awkwardly. "I'm hardly a stranger to losing those close to me."

"Maybe I should," Melia said. "Maybe I will. After all, those I used to confide in are... not here anymore."

Not here anymore. Three words that at once encapsulated the horrible emptiness perfectly and fell so far short of describing it. And this wasn't the first time she'd experienced it, she said...

N glanced at the produce he was holding. "I'll bring some to the palace when I'm done preparing it, if you'd like."

"I've had my reservations about you," Melia said. "But I was right to trust Noah when he spoke out for you. You've changed, and for the better." She paused then, as if to contemplate her next words. "Tell me. What is it you want to do in this world?"

"I'm still trying to find out." N fell silent, sorting through his own words in turn. "I want to be with Noah. I want to help re-establish contact with Alrest, if I can. And beyond that..." He thought of the guards who had patrolled the surroundings before the Intersection, whom he'd never met, and said: "Beyond that, I want to protect the now so that those in it can chart the future."

Melia's smile widened, now absent the sadness. "Spoken like a true Moebius. I believe that you—no, that we will all find a new path for ourselves in time. I have faith in you all, and faith that we will find a way to bridge the distance between our worlds one day."

If even Melia, who had lost everything in the Separation, could find it in herself to meet the future with confidence, what excuse did he have to waver?

What excuse to dally regarding the question that had occupied him? He had his answer, didn't he?

"Would you excuse me?" he asked. "I have something to attend to."

Melia excused him, and he continued his way through New Alcamoth's outskirts, full of empty houses that would one day be filled again. A catastrophe of untold proportions had befallen this world, but they were still here, still carrying the legacy of those that had come before into the future. All thanks to those who had fought to bring an end to Aionios. And did that not include him as well? He deserved no praise for changing his mind after a thousand years, but in that space between spaces, he'd made the choice to believe in the future.

He could be proud of that, he found.

As expected, Noah wasn't home when he returned. Still busy collecting volunteers for the memorial inauguration, probably; it had been a few days, but even the most efficient surveyor couldn't hope to cover everyone in such a short time.

He unloaded batch of heart peaches on the table and consulted the recipe sheets Noah had made, but came up empty. The recipes Noah had written down were mostly filling main dishes, not something one could use a pile of fruit for; as for the ones that weren't, he lacked other ingredients. There was always the option of finding a basket and arranging them in it for Noah to find, but that was dull. No, he wanted to make something out of them.

He placed the sheets back on the table next to the peaches. Wasn't there a recipe book on the shelf stocked by the home's former owners?

Neither he nor Noah had felt comfortable touching it in these past few months. Though N had read the book he'd borrowed from their predecessor's room and more recently Noah had brought home some books from the newly reopened city library, there was something too personal about the ones in this home.

He had to get over that sooner or later. There was no reason not to tackle it today.

He made his way over to the bookshelf, looking past all the entertainment literature. One day he'd examine those; today was not this day. But there in the corner stood a short row of cookbooks. One of those had to have what he sought. And indeed, flipping through the pages for a few minutes, he paused at a recipe for heart peach jam.

Did Noah like jam? N didn't remember him bringing it up; in fact, he didn't recall seeing Noah ever eat jam in his memories, though those had grown fallible over the past few months. But then, if Noah had never tried, that made them the perfect gift. He had lemons from the castle stocks, harvested recently. And the so-called gelling sugar was right there in the kitchen. Left behind by Mel'iren and Galtryth, perhaps in the hopes of making jam of their own.

He tied his hair back so it wouldn't get in the way, took the recipe book over to the kitchen and grabbed the back of sugar, weighing it in his hands. It felt about half full, but there had been no jam in the fridge when they'd moved in. Maybe they'd eaten it before the Intersection, or they'd given it away as a gift as well.

"Thank you," he said out loud into the empty room, feeling silly for it. "I'll be sure to treasure it."

One by one, he removed the pits and cut the peaches into small chunks, making a right mess in the process prying the pits from the flesh, but he could wipe down the counter after he was done. The aroma spread through the kitchen in no time. He snuck a piece into his mouth before dropping them in the pot, savouring the sweet flavour melting on his tongue. When was the last time he'd had heart peaches? They'd grown around Keves Castle the entire time, yet he'd never cared enough to procure any.

In went the gelling sugar with the peaches, along with the freshly squeezed lemon juice. Then he turned up the heat, and resisted the urge to stir obsessively lest it burn. Every once in a while was enough.

He hummed a tune as the peaches cooked into jam, totally off key yet unable to bring himself to care. Maybe if he practised enough he'd get on Noah's level one day. Wouldn't that be nice, to write his own melodies?

By the time his melody had come to an awkward ending he couldn't bring himself to mind, the peaches had thickened enough to take them off the stove, give them a final stir and then sample it, spoon directly into the mouth.

It was delicious. Sweet and acidic in just the right balance, melting on the tongue in equal measure—or at least N thought so, and if he did then surely Noah would as well. They had, after all, retained the same taste buds.

It was then that he realised he didn't have any jars. Rummaging through the cupboards didn't unearth any either. Frowning, he looked at the cooling jam pot. He could head over to the kitchenware store he'd found while looting the city—

The door clicked open. So much for that, then. His frown deepened; he'd wanted to be done by the time Noah came home.

"Are you back already?" Noah called from the entrance. "How did the presentation—ah?"

"I made jam," N said as Noah came into the kitchen-living room, awkwardly shuffling in front of the stove. "I couldn't finish up before you arrived, though..."

Noah, of course, didn't complain, or grumble, or indeed express any negative reaction at all. "It's delicious," he said after sampling the jam right out of the pot. "Do we still have leftover bread? Here, let's—"

And then they stood in the kitchen and ate bread with fresh jam dripping off the slices and onto their hands, still warm from the stove, sticking to their lips. It wasn't at all what N had in mind, that would have been presenting Noah with a jar of jam wrapped with a ribbon or somesuch. It was better, somehow.

Almost, he didn't want to interrupt the peace, the levity with what he was about to say. Though Noah would take it well, there was every chance that it'd change the dynamic between them in ways he couldn't foresee. Could he really—should he really—

"Hey," Noah said. "Do you think we're ready to move into the bedroom?"

"Ah?" N replied, and immediately felt stupid. So absorbed in his own head that he'd been caught off guard. For a moment he didn't know what to answer, then he nodded. "We dallied long enough, haven't we? Let's... let's try."

It wasn't running away, to delay the conversation. Settling into their home was important too.

The bedroom was only a short walk away, but it was a walk neither of them had undertaken since moving in. The door had remained firmly shut, letting them ignore some portion of their new reality. Now N pushed the door open, a step ahead of Noah, and entered.

It was a bedroom, almost disappointing in its mundanity. It didn't look any different from the other new-world bedrooms N had seen; the cream-coloured covers were neatly folded back, the pillows fluffed up, the clothes drawer adorned by a pair of socks haphazardly discarded in front of it. Another photo of the couple stood tilted on the nightstand, this one showing them arm in arm and side by side. It was covered in dust, which stuck to his fingers when he wiped it off.

"Do you think it'll ever feel like ours?" Noah asked.

How could it, when nothing else did? They lived on borrowed ground—stolen ground, even if they themselves hadn't been the thieves. None of it belonged to them, except for the jam still in the pot down in the kitchen, or the fruit Zeon and his fellows had harvested, or the farm helper Valdi had built with his and Segiri's help.

And for what he was about to reclaim for himself.

"We could start by changing the bedding," Noah continued when he didn't answer. "There's a former store we can get more from if we need to..."

And on the way pick up jars for the jam, and anything else they might need for their new bedroom. It made perfect sense. Yet, if he left the words he wanted to say behind, here in this bedroom full of ghosts, who could say when he'd next find the courage? How silly, to have such apprehensions about it—but then, maybe that was simply part of being him.

Part of being his own version of Noah.

Heart pounding, words quivering in his chest like a bird fluttering its wings, he turned and faced Noah—the other Noah, his other Noah—head-on.

Noah paused, and reached out to grab his hand. "It's going to be alright," he said.

He must have noticed something in N's posture, or perhaps his expression. N gazed at their hands, fingers intertwined, Noah's palm warm against his own. It was going to be alright, wasn't it?

For the roads went on without end, and regret did not have to be their be-all, end-all.

"Will you call me Noah again?" he asked, and with that, took his first step onto a new road. As himself.