Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

On the beach sat someone she never thought she’d see again.

She didn’t know why she was surprised. Melia did say something about him coming back. It was just… she never expected to see him here.

That’d he come here, where Shulk wasn’t.

He had to have known: Shulk hadn’t been in Colony 9 for months. She thought maybe he’d come back after a few weeks, but it’d been much longer than that with no indication of when he’d come home. Did his being here mean…? She shook her head. Regardless, she might as well say hello. She approached, stopped next to him, and asked, “Alvis?”

He looked up to her with a faint grin on his lips. “Hello there,” he said.

It was so weird to see him just casually on the beach. He was the closest thing this world had to a god, now, and here he was, sunbathing as if he were any old person. She held her arms behind her back, twisting one of her feet into the sand. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Indeed,” he said with a nod. “How do you fare?”

“I’m—”

Missing someone.

“—I’m doing alright,” she said, not looking him in the eye. “How about you? What have you been up to since we last saw you?”

“Observing.”

She looked back to him. His expression had not changed. It kind of hit her right then and there: was he… happy… to see her? Maybe it wasn’t as odd as she thought, but then she’d always assumed Alvis was more focused on Shulk. Perhaps she’d read him wrong.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked.

He nodded. “The human will to survive is truly an astounding thing to behold, even more so now that it is unbound from the chains of gods.”

Fiora looked around them at that. He’d picked a good spot: far away from other people.

He chuckled. “Do not worry,” he said. “I would not have said those things were we within range of prying ears.”

She dug her foot into the sand even further, then pulled it out, shaking off the sand. “Vanea told us that Meyneth once said the Monado was the will to survive… Are you a reflection of that? With you being Monado and all.”

Alvis’s grin seemed to widen. “I suppose you could put it that way. I say this not of arrogance, but of fact: I am vital to this world’s survival. So, yes, in a way you could say I am a reflection of the will to survive.”

Fiora tilted her head, scrunching her nose. “You know, you’re being more honest than Shulk said you were.”

He chuckled again. “I’ve nothing to hide. Not from you.”

“Why me?”

“Not you specifically. From your band of adventurers. Surely Shulk has told you what I am?”

“Some sort of machine.”

“If you know that much, there is nothing I can hide.”

Fiora crouched down next to him, looking at him eagerly. “But how? Is your body mechanical?”

He shook his head. “At least, not in this world.”

“Huh.” She hugged her knees. Not like she’d had a mechanical body for long, not like she had a mechanical body now, but…

“Sorry to disappoint you.” He removed his arms from his upraised knees and placed them behind him, leaning on them as he looked up to the sky. It was an astonishingly relaxed look for him.

“In a good mood, are you?”

“Mmm.”

She looked away, beginning to trace a finger through the sand. “Shulk’s not here, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Do you know why?”

“Would you like to know why?”

His gaze bore in to her. She met his stare, trying hard not to squirm. Gentle eyes held sharp intellect within, deeper than her comprehension.

She couldn’t keep eye contact.

“He told me,” she said. “It was to… sort out his head. He said that things were getting to him and he needed to be somewhere far away, someplace where people didn’t really know him. He usually doesn’t get bothered by things like that, so it must have really troubled him.”

“But you are not satisfied with that explanation.”

She did shift where she crouched. Fine, so Alvis knew… probably everything. Didn’t mean she wanted to share it with him.

His keen eyes turned sympathetic. “My apologies.”

“I just don’t know you that well,” she said, hugging her knees even tighter.

“I should not have voiced my presumptions. Genuinely, I am sorry.” His grin was gone, and he was sitting up straight, hands in his lap.

She stood up. “I don’t know you that well, but you seem to be acting strange.”

“Oh? How do you suppose I should be acting?”

“I dunno. You just seem happy to see me. Why me and not Shulk?”

“Ah.” Alvis pushed himself up as well. When he faced her, his intense gaze nearly stopped her heart, the gravity weighing heavy. “Fiora,” he said, “what if I were to tell you that we bring each other great happiness in the future?”

She took a step back. Her heart started to beat just a little faster. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“I have foreseen a future where you and I are together. As a couple.”

“What?” She took another step back, lifting her hands to her mouth. That was… not what she was expecting him to say at all, not with all that gravity in his expression. She honestly wanted to laugh. Instead she said, “If you want to say you like me, you could just—”

He shook his head, silencing her. “I believe you ought to have a say in your future,” he continued. “This is why I have approached you. If this is not the future you desire, you have the capacity to change it. You know this. You have done so many times.”

Yes, but… Alvis? Them? Was this some kind of weird pickup line? But he looked so serious, and he’d been so honest, and he could actually see the future. It wasn’t improbable that he was telling her the truth. So if they really did get together in the future, then… “What happens to Shulk?”

“Shulk will be fine. It will be some time before you see him again, but rest assured he will return to you when he is ready. Should you choose to wait for him and not proceed with the future I have seen, I shall accept your decision.”

“But what about you? What do you want?”

Alvis said nothing.

“…you must want something. Alvis?”

Still, Alvis said nothing. It looked as if his eyes were searching for something in hers. An answer? What answer could she possibly provide where it concerned his desires?

Finally he said, “…I would desire to see this future come true.”

Fiora blinked. That was quite a heavy thing to say, and she had never picked up even a trace of interest from Alvis towards her. Perhaps towards Shulk… but that was being presumptuous. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Why?”

“That is what I would like to unveil. Why I have this desire… I do not comprehend. And you are not—” He went silent, staring at her with intense gray eyes.

“Not what?”

“Not who I desire.”

Her hand flexed at that. No reason to feel insulted. They might be dating in the future, but they weren’t dating now. He didn’t belong to her.

She was curious, though. “And who might that be?” she asked.

He didn’t respond.

“Alvis. You’ve told me so much already. Why not tell me this?”

“Because I am not used to being this truthful. Not where it concerns matters of the heart. There was a time where I would deny even having such a thing, but it is evident, both in my present and future, that such is the case. I do have a ‘heart’. I must understand.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, you know.”

“It answered your immediate question. As to who the object of my desire is… I would prefer to keep that secret.” Alvis tilted his head, regarding her curiously. “In these situations, I believe it is said that one would like to get to know the other better. If you would permit me…”

Fiora pressed the tips of her fingers together. “I think… I need time to think. Okay, Alvis? Can you wait for an answer? Assuming you aren’t just hitting on me.”

“I am not. It is the unvarnished truth. Please, take all the time you need. It is your future.”

Fiora nodded, a hesitant grin on her face. “Thank you.” She looked behind her, as if her home could provide the answer. Should she tell Dunban? She didn’t think he’d be supportive. Still, it was worth a shot. “Alvis,” she said, “I’m going to leave. I really need to sort out my thoughts.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you for telling me this. I still can’t get it out of my head that this is all some sort of strange pickup, but then… that isn’t very like you. What little I know of you. And I wouldn’t mind knowing you better, I’m just not sure if I want to know you like that. I…” She shook her head. “Just give me some time, okay?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks. Again. I’m gonna go, okay?”

Alvis nodded, saying nothing. She nodded as well, and with one, last lingering look, started walking towards Colony 9.

When she was near the closest building, she looked behind her. Alvis was gone.

Chapter Text

Fiora walked home more slowly than usual. She knew the walk wouldn’t be long enough to sort out her thoughts, that she likely wouldn’t have time to fully think until just before bed, but taking the time now would prevent her from forgetting. For as serious as Alvis had been, he hadn’t approached her for anything important. Not a death or injury or change in the world, just a relationship she wasn’t interested in.

She’d have rejected him on the spot if circumstances were normal. Alvis’s warning hadn’t changed her heart being set, but the foresight of the Monado, whose visions had aided them on their journey, weighed more than the hopes of a doomed suitor. It was just… how? Her and Alvis? They had barely interacted! She knew nothing about him. And he… he probably knew everything about her. So he must know her heart was set on Shulk. Yet he still went through with informing her…

Would Dunban have the wisdom to help her with this strange situation? She’d also like to speak to Reyn, but Reyn was in Colony 6. Chances were neither were going to help, and neither were going to change her mind. Alvis was climbing uphill, wasn’t he? And yet, he had still tried. She nearly wanted to hear him out on that fact alone.

But her heart was set on one man. Did it really have room for someone else?

“Is something bothering you, Fiora?”

She hadn’t said a word to him about Alvis all night. She’d chickened out, assumed what he was going to say; but of course she hadn’t been watching her behavior while evading the problem, and Dunban had seen through her. She set down the pot that was in her hands and replied, “It’s… Alvis.”

Dunban looked surprised, so much so that she had to gently push up the plate that was in his hand. “Alvis? You mean the Monado?”

“I mean Alvis.” She also thought of him as the Monado sometimes, but he had a name. It irritated her when her friends acted as if he didn’t.

“Right. What about him?”

“I don’t really know how to put this, but… He sort of… hit on me…”

“He did what?” His voice was a combination of shock and agitation. She gave him a look out the top of her eyes, warning him to calm down. He placed the plate down.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” she said. “He said he had a vision. Of us together.”

A perplexed expression overcame Dunban’s face. “Of you and him… together?”

She nodded. “As a couple. He told me to warn me, in case I wanted to change the future.”

“You and Alvis?”

“It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? I barely know anything about him. I said he hit on me but… I mean, he can see the future, can’t he? So this must be true.”

“Or he’s lying. You know that Alvis is a capricious character.”

“I don’t think he means harm. He said that he has nothing to hide from us now that we know what he is. So why would he lie?”

“I can think of many reasons why he’d lie,” Dunban said, his voice laced with suspicion. “Fiora, be careful. He may be using what we know as a way to manipulate you, to make you think he’s more trustworthy than he is.”

“But why?”

“Fiora, when someone likes another person, they can get… persistent. Perhaps lying about a vision is his way of being persistent.”

“You think I can’t figure that out for myself? Are you calling me naive?”

“No, I…”

He was calling her naive.

“Can you just trust me on this?” she said. “I wasn’t going to take him up on it, anyway. I’m not naive. I won’t let myself be taken advantage of!”

Dunban stepped forward, placing his hands on Fiora’s shoulders. “I apologize if I gave you that impression, Fiora. I’m just worried. That’s all.”

“I understand. But please, trust me.”

Dunban nodded. “So you’re turning him down, are you?”

“Yes. I—” Dunban didn’t know about her feelings for Shulk. Even if she felt they were obvious, it was best not to drop that in case he didn’t know. “—I’m just not interested.”

“Very well.”

Fiora lifted an eyebrow. “Not even going to try to convince me to give him a chance?” Dunban’s mouth moved to form words, but nothing came. She giggled. “It’s alright. I got the picture: you’re not a fan, either.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think that Alvis can be an upstanding gentleman. After all, we wouldn’t be living in this world without him. It’s simply…”

“You can’t forget his ‘betrayal’, can you? Even if it turns out he was on our side.”

“Well…”

“Or it’s more complicated than that. Either way. You won’t have to worry about adding him to your family tree.” She paused, then added, “And you don’t have to thank me for it.”

Dunban laughed. “If you say so.”

She didn’t have to do much thinking before bed. She told Dunban she was going to turn Alvis down. What was there to think about? The fact that he could see the future? But he’d given her a choice. It was an easy choice. What had she been worried about?

Aren’t you a little bit curious?

She was. If you had asked her yesterday what future the Monado could foresee, she’d say with certainty that it was with Shulk. She’d wait for Shulk no matter how long it took for him to come back. Yet the fact that Alvis had seen her with him…

Maybe he was just hitting on her, as Dunban thought. Alvis was the closest thing this world had to a god. Gods could be arrogant. Even Meyneth was, to a degree—which meant if Alvis wanted something, he’d just take it. Wouldn’t he? Alvis, who deferred to Shulk’s judgment rather than making the world he wanted? That Alvis would just take what he wanted, that Alvis would be so crass as to lie about a vision just to hit on her? But Dunban was right. Alvis was capricious. Acting as their ally one moment, acting as Zanza’s the other… But there is no way Shulk would put his trust in someone who would hurt her.

Then what ought she to think?

If she was being honest, she did find Alvis rather pretty. Who didn’t? Melia, who had spent some time with him, never said anything to that effect, but really, who didn’t find Alvis a little bit attractive? With those refined good looks and that air of mystery—really, who wouldn’t fall for him just a little?

Not her. She had her heart set.

But aren’t you a little bit curious?

Of how it would happen, yes.

But she had her heart set.

She needed to go to sleep.

She found him sitting on the beach once more, again far away from other people, in his out of place coat. “Don’t you get hot in that thing?” she asked as she approached.

Alvis looked at her over his shoulder, then stood up, facing her. “The temperature doesn’t bother me.”

“What are you standing up for?” She came to a stop in front of him.

“Have you reached your decision?”

She tilted her head, frowning. “Eager, are we?”

His voice had been neutral, not a hint of urgency.

“Anyway,” she said, “the answer is no.”

Alvis stared at her, a glint of confusion in his eyes. “The answer is no?”

“I mean… I mean I’m not interested. In us.”

There was no change in Alvis’s expression save for the confusion disappearing. “I see.”

“I’m sorry, Alvis. I’m sure you’re a great guy, you’re just…”

Not who I desire.

“I understand,” he replied. “Thank you for informing me of your decision.”

She blinked, and he was gone. She blinked again, rapidly, to confirm that her eyes hadn’t played tricks on her. He was indeed gone, vanished without a trace. “Alvis? Alvis? Where did you—” She let out a sigh, turned around, and ran into Alvis.

Fiora screamed.

Alvis leaned back in shock. “I’m sorry?” he said.

“Don’t… Don’t do that!” she cried, just barely restraining herself from taking a swipe at him. “You scared me!”

“My apologies,” he replied, “but you did call for me.”

“Couldn’t you have come back in a way that didn’t scare me?”

Alvis simply shrugged.

“Anyway,” Fiora breathed out, “where do you think you’re going?”

“Away. You rejected me.”

“What part of ‘I don’t want to date you’ included ‘disappear forever’?”

“I wasn’t going to disappear forever.”

Fiora gave him a doubtful look. He turned his face away. “Is there something you require of me?” he asked.

“No, I just. I thought you’d stay a little longer than that.”

“I received the answer to my inquiry. I’ve no reason to stay.”

“So you’re just going to go back to observing?”

Alvis looked to her and nodded.

“I guess I can’t make you stay…”

“Did you wish for me to stay?”

Did she? She had just rejected him. It was just… “I thought maybe. You’d hang around and. We’d get to know you better.”

Alvis said nothing. He stared at her with expressionless eyes, one that sought nothing, ones that waited.

“…don’t you have anything to say?”

He didn’t, not for a moment. Then he asked, “Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’? Why not?”

“I am a machine.”

“So? You talk and have a personality. That basically makes you a person.”

Alvis stared at her with his neutral expression. It was honestly a bit—

Her eyelids drooped. “Are you just acting this way and saying all these things so I don’t think you’re a person? So I think you’re a machine and leave you alone?”

Alvis’s eyes went wide.

Fiora leaned forward, pointing a finger in his face. “That is it, isn’t it?” she said victoriously.

“I… I…”

She dropped her finger—and the air of victory. “If you’re that serious about wanting to be left alone… I guess I can’t make you stay. I just wish that you would.”

“If your desire for me to stay is that great, I suppose I could…” His voice trailed off as his expression turned thoughtful. “However, I must warn you that ‘getting to know me better’ may lead to the future you have rejected.”

“I’m not worried about that.” She was tough—some would say stubborn. Her heart wouldn’t be swayed so easily.

Alvis stared at her silently for a moment. “Very well,” he said. “I shall endeavor to visit Colony 9 more often.”

“Visit? And not stay?”

“Where would I stay?”

“Er… My and Dunban’s house!” She hadn’t thought that through at all; but a quick run through of the possible options left her house as the most convenient, for now. Perhaps they’d find someplace else to house him in time.

Alvis frowned. “Fiora, are you certain that future is one you do not desire?”

“Yes.” She grabbed him by the arm—stifled a laugh at his surprised face. “Now c’mon.”

Chapter Text

“Fiora.”

Fiora hadn’t heard that tone of voice from Dunban in a long, long time. She’d grown into a respectable young woman, thank you very much, so she hadn’t done anything—deliberate— to frustrate him. But dropping an unexpected guest on him, one who had betrayed them once…

Yeah, she deserved that tone.

“He doesn’t have anywhere to stay,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be for long.”

Dunban kept trying to talk, hand moving with every dead sentence, trying to grab the words out of the air. But there was nothing. He had nothing.

“I assure you, I am very quiet,” said Alvis. “Also, I can abstain from eating in the event that my staying here places undue strain on your resources.”

“What?” Dunban got out.

“Yeah,” said Fiora. “That’s weird.”

“Nonetheless,” said Alvis, and did not elaborate further.

Dunban stared at Alvis, eyes nearly bulging—

—and it took Fiora a moment to realize he’d fallen back into his state of speechlessness. He switched his gaze between Alvis and Fiora, gesturing into the air again trying to find words.

“I promise to cook your favorite meals for a week?” Fiora offered.

Dunban shook his head.

“Two.”

Dunban shook his head again. “The—”

“The what?”

Another shake of the head. Fiora turned desperately to Alvis. “Do you know what he’s trying to say?”

“I won’t tell you,” said Alvis.

“What kind of answer is that?”

Alvis put his hand on his hip and said nothing further.

“Listen, Fiora,” said Dunban. “I—”

“C’mon,” she said, knowing he had nothing else to say, “please? He already offered not to eat. He really has nowhere else to stay, and if he doesn’t stay somewhere he’s going to disappear on us again.”

“I will not,” Alvis said with indignation.

“Yes you will,” Fiora threw over her shoulder. She looked back at Dunban, interlacing her hands underneath her chin. “Don’t you have questions for him? About this world? C’mon, you must be curious!” She heard Alvis sigh behind her, but paid him no mind.

“I distinctly recall you saying he hit on you,” Dunban finally got out.

“I did not,” Alvis interjected.

“Why should I trust him around you?” Dunban asked, ignoring Alvis.

“He didn’t hit on me,” Fiora insisted. “I told you. He just warned me about the future.”

“And to him that could be just as good as flirting.”

“It is not,” said Alvis.

“Will you just trust me?” said Fiora. “Again? Please? I’ll keep an eye on him. I won’t let him lay a finger on me.” She placed a hand on one of her knives.

Dunban looked unimpressed. “That will hardly hinder the Monado,” he said.

“Do not threaten me with violence,” Alvis told Fiora. To Dunban he said, “Though I understand your reservations, I did not flirt with her, nor I do I intend to touch her. I have not talked her into seeking quarters for me. It is her wish, and hers alone. I for my part fully intend to acquire employment as soon as possible so as to reduce the strain I place on your hospitality.”

“A job?” asked Fiora. “Can’t you just print money?”

“Fiora!” Dunban and Alvis said in unison, but not sync.

“What? I mean he’s basically a god.”

“I could produce my own money, it is true,” said Alvis, “however, that would devastate the economy.”

“That’s… right… I just don’t see why he has to work. I’d think creating the world would mean you didn’t have to.”

“Would that the world work that way. Alas, it does not. Please.” Alvis turned his attention to Dunban. “I already have a few ideas as to the type of job I could secure. I promise I will stay out of your way in the meantime.”

“Are you serious about not eating?” asked Dunban.

“Very. This body is a construct. It can survive without sustenance.”

“I don’t see why that’s necessary.” Dunban sighed. “Alright, Fiora. He can stay.”

Fiora began to speak. “Rea—”

“But I’m keeping my eye on you,” Dunban continued, pointing a finger at Alvis.

“Understood,” said Alvis. “I accept your scrutiny. You will find me on my best behavior.”

Dunban narrowed his eyes. She looked to Alvis, finding him nonchalant; then she looked back to her brother. “Thank you, Dunban,” she said. “Sorry I dropped this on you without warning.” Dunban let out a low sound, but said nothing. She walked over to Alvis and grabbed his arm. “Let’s take you to your room, then.”

Thanks to Fiora’s maintenance of this room, they weren’t greeted by a plume of dust when she opened the door. “Your house is very special,” Alvis said as he walked through the doorway.

“Thanks. I think.” She followed him in.

Alvis stopped, turned to her and grinned. So maybe it was a complement. “Do you receive many guests?”

Fiora shook her head. “You’re the first one we’ve had in a while. But you should know that.”

Alvis turned and went to inspect the drapes. “I don’t look into every aspect of this world. Only the ones that are most urgent.”

“Like your love life?”

As expected, Alvis didn’t have a response to that. He merely moved to the deep brown drawer, looking it up and down before he moved on to the bed. He ran his hand over the light pink bed sheets, then gingerly sat down on the soft mattress. “This should be comfortable enough.”

“Nothing like what you had in Alcamoth, though.”

“I am grateful you have provided me with a place to stay.”

She placed a hand on her hip. “Are you really going to stay, though? I mean, we can’t keep you.”

“I will honor your wish and remain here.”

“But what do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want. I—”

“Don’t say you’re a machine and you don’t have desires. You told me you do.”

Alvis tilted his head, his eyes growing distant. “Yes. I suppose I did, didn’t I?”

“You’re really confusing, you know that? I mean one moment you’re talking about your desires, the next you act like you aren’t capable of them because you’re a machine.”

“I perplex myself. That is why…”

“Why what?”

“I cannot say. Not here.”

“Ah.” She folded her arms. “We’re going to have to find a good place to talk about that more. The beach?”

“It doesn’t have to be the beach. Wherever the subject arises, so long as it is not here.”

Fiora nodded, scanning the room. It had a solitary window above the desk, which wasn’t terribly far from the drawer. An armchair sat at the foot of the bed. She moved over there and took a seat. “So what kind of jobs were you thinking of?”

“Without Shulk, your Defense Force lacks a weapons developer, does it not? Developing weapons was part of what I did prior to the creation of this world. However, the weapons I developed were rather. Large. Larger than a faced mechon unit. But I believe with practice that I will be able to design smaller ones.” He nodded towards the desk.

She looked, raising her eyebrows. A sketchpad had appeared on it. “Did you do that?” she asked.

“That will not devastate the economy,” he said. “There are other provisions I can manifest without too much trouble. I promise, I will not be a burden.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” she said, rising to her feet. “Just take it easy. And don’t disappear on us.” She pointed a finger towards Alvis. Alvis simply shook his head, exasperated. “Anyway, I need to get dinner ready. You weren’t… serious about not eating, were you?”

“I was.”

“C’mon, Alvis. You can’t not eat!”

“I can and I will.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Before Alvis could object, she was out the door. Machine or no, as long as he was in her house, he was going to eat.

“So what interests you in my sister?”

“I have no interest.”

“And why is that?”

“I am simply not interested.”

Fiora’s face was pointed directly at her food. This was, without a doubt, the worst, most awkward dinner she ever had. She really didn’t want to look up in the event that her brother, who objected to Alvis “flirting with her”, looked offended that he wasn’t interested. She poked at her food, rearranging the plate, occasionally picking something up to put in her mouth.

She risked a look. Alvis was eating his food without a care in the world, while her brother was shooting daggers from his eyes. “Why are you so angry?” she wanted to ask, but that would just ruin the mood further.

“Erm… how’s the food, Alvis?” she asked.

Alvis grinned. “Exquisite.”

You’re just saying that, she thought. There’s no way it’s as good as the food at Alcamoth. She glanced at Dunban, who had narrowed his eyes. Alvis wasn’t flirting with her, for goodness’ sake! Well, that got doubt out of her mind, but now she was irritated. She sighed.

Alvis was still eating without care. How could he be that way? Was that the comfort afforded to the Monado, the all-seeing? Just not caring if someone was shooting daggers your way? She wished she was as nonchalant as him. That would solve… a lot of problems, all the way back to their journey. Not caring what people thought of her body. That would’ve saved her a lot of stress. Not all of it, but some. And right now it would’ve eliminated the irritation at the suspicion some people threw her way. It wasn’t her fault, nor was it her failure, that Shulk left. He had decided to leave by himself. But some people… they didn’t say it to her face, but she heard rumors that some of them thought it was because she wasn’t good enough to keep him.

She couldn’t resent Shulk for his choice. It really was a lot on his shoulders, even if he hadn’t chosen to be a god, and she would never fault him for taking the time he needed to sort things out. She just…

Was losing her appetite, all of a sudden. She placed her utensils down, trying her best to ignore Dunban’s concerned expression.

“Fiora?” he asked.

“I’m… not feeling well,” she said, rising to her feet. “Would you two mind cleaning up?”

Dunban looked at Alvis nervously. “I… don’t mind at all,” he lied.

She forced a smile. “Thanks.” She glanced at Alvis—and turned away immediately, rushing to her room.

That look of sympathy, as if he knew what she was going through! He couldn’t possibly…

She closed the door quietly before she threw herself on the bed. She had practice. She wouldn’t cry too loudly.

Dunban had exhausted his inquiries over dinner, so clean-up transpired with nary a comment from him. Alvis welcomed the silence. His own thoughts were quiet save for an itinerary of actions to be taken tonight. Chief among them would be to begin designing smaller weapons. He didn’t plan to go to sleep tonight. He rarely ever did sleep.

He ensured that he washed the last dish. An attempt to put himself in Dunban’s good graces, though he knew it would take many more little actions to turn Dunban’s opinion around. A step forward was a step forward, nonetheless, and he offered a small grin to Dunban after he was done. Dunban did not return it.

Without a word, Alvis retreated towards his new room, passing Fiora’s room along the way. There he paused, fist hovering in front of the door. He lowered his hand and walked away. Not now. Not yet. She needed time, and she didn’t know.

She didn’t know he knew exactly how she felt.

Chapter Text

Her fingers dug into the back of his neck as he sank into her. She gasped into his ear, moving her arm to hook around his back as he began to thrust.

“Alvis.”

Her hips pivoted up to meet his, then descended, entering a rhythm he had no trouble maintaining. Using his foresight for personal pleasure… It may have been a faint consideration in his many years of living, but he found he held no objection to it now that it had become a reality.

“Alvis…”

He hooked one arm around her back to hold her in place while his other hand roamed around her body, coming to rest on one of her breasts. She arched her back and breathed.

“Alvis!”

Alvis jerked awake. His head had been resting on an outstretched arm, his free hand on the sketch pad with the pencil leaning loosely within.

He sighed. That was… annoying. The dream and the sleep. It must’ve been the food that lulled him. He looked down to confirm the dream did not leave any impact on his waking body, then pushed the chair back and stood, walking towards the door. He opened it just wide enough to see Fiora’s face.

“Breakfast is ready,” she said.

A million objections arose in his mind, just as they had last night—and just like last night, the unwillingness to fight this stubborn woman won. “I will be there momentarily,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes.

He opened the door wide and stepped out. “I will accompany you now,” he said with a faint grin. It didn’t reach his eyes. Nonetheless, she was satisfied with this, as she closed her eyes and grinned triumphantly. “Dunban had something to do, so he already ate. He’s not here.”

“Oh. That is—” Most delightful. Dunban was the last person he wanted to see after that… dream. Not that the dream meant anything, least of all did it confirm Dunban’s suspicions. It was merely a prophetic dream of the future Fiora had rejected. It would not come to pass. His mind was simply tormenting him for reasons he could not discern. Certainly, it had been his… interest to see that future come to fruition, if only so he could understand himself more, but it was not a necessary future. So why taunt himself with the impossible possibility? The personalities of the Trinity Processor were advanced indeed if they too were subject to the mysteries of the human mind.

“Alvis?”

Alvis shook his head. His thoughts had gotten the better of him. “I am sorry to hear your brother will not be joining us.”

Fiora looked at him doubtfully. He offered another grin. It didn’t work. Her doubt only increased. She reached out to his arm, only to grab at air. Alvis had moved it just in time. With a defeated look, she walked forward towards the kitchen.

“How are you feeling?”

He hadn’t asked her during breakfast. Though she likely wouldn’t believe him, her food was quite good. It wasn’t comparable to Alcamoth, it was true—but neither was Alcamoth comparable to hers. He had been, quite simply, too captivated by her food to think to inquire about last night; but now that they were cleaning up, the subject had arisen in his mind.

She gave him a strange look, somewhere between denial and acknowledgment. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“You left dinner last night in ill humor.”

“Oh. That.” She placed one plate down and picked up another. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Hmm.”

He finished washing his plate, placing it with the other clean dishes. There were no dishes left to wash. He looked towards Fiora, watching as her slender fingers rubbed against the plate she held. His mind started to drift, to where, he didn’t know, but he became aware of how far his mind had wandered when he noticed Fiora’s hand hadn’t moved for several moments. He looked up to meet her questioning gaze. “I—my apologies,” he said, feeling his cheeks flush. He had no explanation, no excuse—and he was growing increasingly aware of how that had looked. He could peer into her thoughts to confirm his fears, but he felt he had already violated her enough with his stare.

He needed to procure that job with haste.

Fiora stood on the other side of the fence from the drills in the Military District and thought about Alvis.

That wasn’t what she usually thought about here. Usually she retreated into her imagination, into wistfulness, and sometimes into melancholy. Today she was here more out of habit than anything. She needed a familiar backdrop onto which she could project her thoughts.

Why had Alvis stared at her that way? He’d sworn up and down that he wasn’t hitting on her. She had believed him. And now this. She wasn’t naive, nor had he been the first person to hit on her in Shulk’s absence. It was just… he was the Monado. He had to be better than some random, opportunistic guy. Or had she placed too much faith in him? She sighed, wrapping her hands around one of the bars of the fence, and stared at the drills.

It wasn’t long until she was imagining herself in those drills again, getting yelled at by “Square-tache”, being forced to do some ridiculous task as punishment. She thought of all the missions she could take as a soldier, all the small tasks that made their area a little bit safer. She thought about how capable she’d be at these things. She thought about how much she’d be able to support Dunban as a soldier, even if he had his own pension to live off of. She thought and she thought until she reached the usual conclusion that it was never going to happen. It was too late.

She let go of the bars and walked away, stopping just once as she faced the Weapons Development Lab. Then she ran out of the Military District.

“Alvis.”

“Alvis…”

“Alvis!”

No response. She knocked on the door again and again and still Alvis did not respond. Was he just not there? She was half tempted to crack open the door—and nearly did, before her better senses got to her.

If he wasn’t there he wasn’t there. She’d just have to fix him a plate once dinner was done.

“Alvis?”

No response. Was he even there? Had he vanished on them? She wanted to take him at his word that he’d stay, but that stare had her doubting him. Still, he was their guest, and she wanted to give him another chance, to prove that he wasn’t just like any other guy. But in order to do that, he had to be here.

She set the plate down on the floor in front of the door. “If you’re in there,” she said, “I left the food outside the door. I really hope you aren’t refusing to eat.”

She hoped he was in there. She wanted to have faith in the Monado, for him to be someone more than a person with base ambitions. It was too disappointing otherwise.

She chased a figure through the fog. No matter how hard she ran she never got any closer to them. They always went opposite the direction she did. She woke tired and sore, as if she had ran in her sleep. It took her a while to climb out of bed.

The first thing she did when she left her room was check the door by the guest room. The food was still there, untouched. Had he really gone…?

She didn’t bother knocking on the door. Quietly, carefully, she cracked open the door and peered inside. He was hunched over the desk, scribbling into the sketchpad. Several pages of the sketchpad had been filled from what she could see. She let out a quiet sound, one she was confident he couldn’t hear.

“Please leave,” he said, not looking up from his work.

She stood up straight. Of course he’d have eyes in the back of his head. Or, well, he had foreseen this. “You didn’t eat,” she said.

“I don’t need to. Now please go.”

She didn’t. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I won’t repeat myself.”

“Or what?” She probably should have had more fear. This was the Monado she was dealing with. He could vanish her into nonexistence if he wished. She doubted he would.

He lifted his head, but did not turn it. His shoulders slumped. He said nothing. He must’ve known there was nothing he could do to scare her away. She took this as an invitation to step into the room. Probably a risk, but… She had a bad habit of testing how far she could go; and some part of her cared that he was acting so strange. “Alvis,” she said, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he replied. “I am merely focused on these designs.”

It didn’t take a keen eye to realize he was decidedly not looking at her. She inched closer to the desk until she was close enough to stick her head into his peripheral view—

—which of course he turned away from. She frowned, standing upright and folding her arms. “What’s wrong? Am I so beautiful you can hardly bear to look at me?”

Alvis scoffed. It sounded so… haughty. She snorted.

“Will you please just leave me to my work?” he asked. And she probably should. It wasn’t like she wasn’t warned that he would refuse to eat. He was simply making good on his threat—and working on getting a job, which he felt like he needed to do.

It’s just she wasn’t satisfied with either explanation. “Something is wrong,” she said.

“So what if there is? We are not friends. It is none of your concern.”

The words chilled her, though he was right. He was more friends with Shulk than he was anyone else in their group. Why did she care so much? “What if I want to be your friend?” she offered.

“Fiora, I can read thoughts as well as the future. I know you have your doubts about me after yesterday.”

She unfolded her arms and stared.

“Please just leave me to my work,” he said, his voice growing soft, imploring. “The sooner I can find a job the sooner I can find other quarters.”

“Alvis… Look. What happened yesterday confused me, but… I want to believe in you. I mean, you’ve been good on your word not to leave, so you have to be good on your word that you weren’t hitting on me…”

“Yet I told you I desired to see that future come to pass.”

“You… did say that, didn’t you? But you also said I wasn’t who you desired. Honestly, Alvis, I don’t know what to think.”

Alvis lowered his head. “I perplex myself,” he said quietly.

She didn’t know what to do. It was clear Alvis was going through something, perhaps more than she could comprehend; but she wanted to help him, just like she would want to help anyone in trouble. It wasn’t because he was the Monado or anything like that. He was a person who was hurting, regardless whether he saw himself that way.

“Alvis, just… forget it,” she said. “Forget about what happened yesterday, okay? And… look at me.”

Alvis slowly turned his head in her direction, and even then just enough to peer at her out the corner of his eye.

“I promise you aren’t going to burst into flames if you look at me,” she said.

Alvis, still slowly, turned to face her fully.

“Ta-da!” she said with a flourish. Alvis looked down, grinning faintly. She giggled. “Can I convince you to eat breakfast?”

“I… suppose…”

Before, she would have grabbed his arm and dragged him to the kitchen. Today she simply waited for him to move. He seemed to identify this incongruity, as he looked at her with a furrowed brow before rising to his feet. “What will you be serving?” he asked.

She started to walk forward. “I dunno.” She threw a look over her shoulder. “Wanna help?”

“I. Ah. Well, that’s—”

“You don’t have to.”

They said nothing else as they walked to the kitchen. There, Alvis took a hesitant seat as Fiora began to work. Her mind was swirling with things to say to him. She picked one and held it to a fire, refining it until it came out in a way she thought preferable. “You beat yourself up a lot, don’t you?” is what she asked.

She wasn’t looking at him, so she didn’t see how he reacted. She only heard his eventual response, “I suppose I harbor some guilt.”

She threw him a look over her shoulder. He did seem to be uneasy. She frowned, looking back to her work. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” she said. “I just didn’t like seeing you upset. It’s okay if you make mistakes. You can always learn from them.”

“I can’t afford to make mistakes. I’m far too powerful and… important… to err.”

“I don’t think looking at a girl is going to destroy the world, Alvis,” she said wryly. She heard him sigh behind her.

The food was done. She began fixing his plate. “I think you’re so used to everything being mega important that you don’t know how to adjust to everyday life,” she said. “It’s normal to like someone, as long as you aren’t a creep about it.” She turned in his direction, walking to the table with the plate in her hand. She set it in front of him and said, “And I don’t think you’re a creep.”

Alvis had that same look that Dunban had the other day: of trying, and failing, to find words. She shrugged, moving on to fix Dunban’s plate. “Maybe you aren’t used to liking someone,” she said, “so you don’t know what’s ‘right’. I really don’t know. You’ve been alive for a long time. Maybe I and this mysterious other person aren’t the first people you’ve liked.”

She took the plate to the table, glancing at Alvis fidgeting, trying to find the words to rebuff her. Leaning against the table, she folded her arms, looking to the ceiling. “It’s kinda flattering, being fancied by the Monado.”

Alvis let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl.

“Don’t say any of this to Dunban, by the way,” she said—and fully looked at him. She frowned. His face was red. “You might want to take care of that before Dunban comes down.”

Alvis rubbed his cheeks, then stared hard at the table top. It seemed to work. His cheeks returned to their normal color.

“Good. I’m gonna get Dunban now. And Alvis? Don’t worry so much.”

Alvis gave her a nod. She nodded back, then left to wake Dunban.

Chapter Text

Alvis brought the sketchpad with him when he came out for breakfast. He set it on the table, drawing Dunban’s attention. “I didn’t know you could draw,” said Dunban.

Fiora could tell he was trying to suppress hostility in his voice. Dunban hadn’t warmed up to Alvis, even though he’d been here over a week. This was partly Alvis’s fault. He and Fiora had made a compromise where it concerned his not eating: he would join them for breakfast, but nothing else; thus Dunban hadn’t seen much of Alvis. The rest of the blame was Dunban’s. He still suspected Alvis. He didn’t know about Alvis’s slip-up, thank goodness, but Alvis’s protestations had no effect on him. Today was the first attempt he had ever made to be civil towards him.

“These are schematics for weapons,” said Alvis. “I intend to present them to the Defense Force today. I understand they are without a weapons developer.”

“Seeking to replace Shulk, are you?”

Fiora could’ve groaned. She heard the double meaning. If Alvis picked up on that, it didn’t show on his face. “Merely filling a vacancy,” he said.

“I see.” Dunban’s gaze locked with Fiora’s. He looked down to his food and said nothing else.

Alvis, unaware of the silent communication between siblings, continued to speak: “I could show you some of my ideas if you so desire.”

Dunban looked haltingly up to Alvis, then to Fiora.

“I’d like to see them,” she said.

“Very well.”

He set his utensils down, wiped his hands on a napkin, and picked up the sketchpad, moving to where both Fiora and Dunban could see its contents. He opened the pad some pages in—perhaps his first attempts weren’t presentable—revealing schematics for an axe.

“Oh,” said Fiora. “That looks nice!”

Neither she nor Dunban had any experience with axes.

Nonetheless, Alvis grinned. “My thanks,” he said, closing the pad.

“Axes aren’t popular in the Defense Force,” said Dunban. Fiora lifted her eyebrows. Was Dunban trying to be helpful?

“I believe it would be within the Defense Force’s best interests to accommodate as many fighting styles as possible,” said Alvis.

“Hm.” Dunban clearly had objections to that, but, for once, didn’t see the need to argue over it. “I wish you the best of luck.” And he sounded genuine. Fiora offered Dunban an appreciative smile. He glanced at her, then looked away, somewhat embarrassed.

“Thank you,” said Alvis. He set the sketchpad aside and resumed eating his breakfast.

“Do you have any plans should this fail?” asked Dunban.

“Hm,” was all Alvis said.

Dunban shot Fiora an uncertain glance. She shrugged. It was Alvis. She was certain he had a plan.

“I don’t have any ideas, actually.”

So the proposal to the Defense Force had been a bust.

She knew something was wrong when she hadn’t seen any trace of him in the Military District, only to be told he had left a while ago. She found him on the beach again, secluded as he tended to be.

“Please don’t tell me the weapons developer job was the only idea you had,” she said. “Can’t you see into the future? Couldn’t you ‘foretell’ that this was going to happen?”

“I see many futures, Fiora. Merely perceiving them does not guarantee—”

“So there was a future where this happened!” She threw open her hands. “And you saw it!”

“And I saw a future where it didn’t happen,” he insisted. “I—” He huffed. “I miscalculated.”

Fiora threw up her hands, plopped down next to him. “How did that happen?”

“I put too much faith in my ability to create suitable weapons. I should say—claiming I have ‘no ideas’ is not entirely true. I have many skills I could utilize in an occupation; it is simply that, outside of being Her Majesty’s adviser or a weapons developer, none of them are immediately and predictably lucrative.”

“So what are you trying to say? That you’re a Jack of all trades and a master of none?”

Alvis laughed lightly. “I am a master of many things, Fiora. Time has afforded me that much. But there is no guarantee that playing the lute will afford me a self-sufficient income.”

“You’re a musician?”

“I am many things. However, my primary and dare I say sole occupation in this world was as a seer. Who here is in need of a seer?”

Fiora pulled up her knees, resting an elbow against one as she propped her face up with its hand. “You could probably make a killing as a soothsayer.”

“Fiora, knowledge of the future is dangerous. It is not something I would hand out so easily.”

“Well, just… lie. Sometimes. To give yourself credibility.”

Alvis looked at her incredulously. “…in any case, I will not be debasing myself as a soothsayer.”

“You asked if anyone needed a seer. All I did was answer your question.”

She could tell it took everything within Alvis not to roll his eyes. He looked towards the water instead.

That’s when an idea hit her. She lifted her head from her hand and clapped her hands together. “Oh, I know! The Machina started a whatsit a year ago!”

“The Machina.” Alvis looked at her with a frown. It had nothing to do with her calling the whatsit a whatsit.

Library.

Colony 9 had no such thing before—and both the Machina and Melia had been horrified by that fact. It wasn’t that they didn’t keep old books; they just didn’t keep them in any centralized location. The closest thing Colony 9 had to a library prior to the Machina’s creation were the records stored in the Military District.

But that really didn’t concern what was making Alvis unhappy. He had said it outright. “What’s wrong with the Machina?” she asked.

“Nothing, I…” He looked out to the waters again. “You can certainly try to convince them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shook his head.

They fell into silence.

She looked out to the water with him, trying to think of what problem he could possibly have with the Machina—or what problem the Machina might have with him. She didn’t recall anything concerning Alvis from Meyneth’s memories, and Meyneth didn’t have any thoughts about Alvis in the brief time she was around him. This didn’t mean he lacked history with the Machina. Something could have happened while she was asleep.

There was one way to find out.

“Say, Alvis…”

She looked at him, and saw him peer at her out the corner of his eyes.

“Is there some sort of… history… between you and the Machina?”

The edges of his lips tugged down. “No.”

“…really?”

“My first and only interaction with the Machina was to warn them that you and your friends were in danger.”

She found that hard to believe. She also couldn’t read minds like he could, so all she had to go off of was intuition.

“Okay,” she said, “then how did—”

That askance look said so much. He would have known where to gone because he is Alvis, and nothing more needed to be said. He likely gave the Machina some convincing story about how he found them, or at least pressed the matter of the others’ safety so hard they had no choice but to oblige him despite unanswered questions.

“Alright. Nevermind.”

They fell into silence again, this one much longer than the first.

It was funny. He was Alvis. She should have had so many questions, but they seemed to evaporate when she was around him. She wasn’t really bothered by that. He promised he’d stay, so she had plenty of time to ask. For now she was contented by the kernels of information she gleaned about him. Of course, there was still much more she had left to learn, but he was steadily opening up. Maybe some of her questions would be answered during that process.

She looked back to him and saw he was leaning with his arms behind his back, his fingers moving in the sand. She wrapped her arms around her knees and set her head to rest there, gazing back out at the water.

They sat together that way for some time.

Vanea looked at her apologetically. “I’m not sure the library is yet popular enough to warrant assistance.”

Alvis was positioned in some dark corner of the Junks. He had said his greetings—going so far as to bow to Miqol (who laughed)—and then retreated, letting Fiora talk for him. A good idea. She was persistent. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t get popular in the future,” she said. “It pays to be prepared.”

“You are correct,” Vanea said, lifting a long-nailed finger to her face. “However, there is the issue of pay…”

“It doesn’t have to be a lot of money, right, Alvis?” She glanced at him. He looked away.

“I’m afraid we won’t be able to offer much,” said Vanea. “Will that be okay?”

Alvis was suddenly the center of attention. He clutched at a sleeve, still looking to the side. “That should be fine,” he said.

Fiora rose an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Alvis said nothing.

“If it truly is okay, we’d be happy to have your assistance,” said Vanea. “We can find something for you to do.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him. “It’s the least we can do for the Monado.”

Alvis placed a hand on his hip and lowered his head.

“Though I must admit,” Vanea continued, “I’m perplexed by why you are seeking a job.”

“I know, right?” said Fiora. “But he insists.”

Alvis lifted the hand that was on his hip and shook his head. Whatever he was trying to convey with these gestures was completely lost on Fiora. She understood that he was uncomfortable, but that was it.

“Alvis,” she said. “Is something wrong?”

He lifted his gaze—towards Miqol. “If I may,” he said, “I would like to have a word.”

“With me?” asked Miqol.

“Yes.” Alvis stepped out from his dark corner, looking up at Miqol. “Do you understand what I am?”

“Why, you’re the Monado, of course. The others told me all about it when they returned.”

“I believe my exact words were, ‘I am Monado’. I have elected not to correct anyone on the mis-belief that I am Zanza’s Monado, but in this instance I must insist.”

“And what is the difference?”

“I am the supreme consciousness of this world. If Zanza and Meyneth were said to be the spirits of their respective titans, then I could be said to be the spirit of this world.”

Miqol folded his hands. “A god, then?”

Alvis shook his head. “There is no need for me to possess a body.”

“Hm. Continue.”

“I say all this in the hopes that you would understand what I am. And the ramifications of that.”

“I understand you are very important to this world—as I understood when under the impression that you were the Monado.”

“Yes. Thus the ramifications are that… I did not assist your people in their time of need.”

Miquol was silent.

Alvis bowed deeply, continuing, “I would like to offer my humblest apologies.”

“For what?”

Alvis stood up, giving Miqol a puzzled look. “Did I not just say…? I was unable to assist your people.”

“Were you?”

Still, Alvis did not understand. He looked to Vanea, then to Fiora. It was Fiora who spoke up.

“It’s… Zanza, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Zanza?” asked Alvis.

“Even though you were—are—the world’s supreme consciousness, you couldn’t defy Zanza on your own, could you? You needed our help.”

“Correct,” said Miqol. “You were unable to assist us because you couldn’t.”

Alvis’s lips pressed together, his face a mask. Fiora took a step closer to him. “It’s alright, Alvis,” she said. “He doesn’t blame you for what happened.”

It took a while for Alvis to speak. In the silence, Fiora looked to Miqol, who simply nodded. Give him time.

“I… thank you for your generosity,” Alvis finally said. And that was all he said. Fiora smiled, nonetheless, moving over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks, Miqol,” she said. “And thank you, Vanea, for letting him work at the library.”

“It is my pleasure.” Vanea smiled, but there was a hint of uncertainty behind it. “Would tomorrow work as a starting date?”

“That would be fine,” said Alvis. “I shall be there bright and early.”

They weren’t far from the Junks when Alvis said, “At the pay rate they offered, it will take quite some time to afford my own quarters.”

“They offered you a job,” Fiora insisted. “That is what you wanted, yeah?”

“Yes, but—”

“Don’t be picky. You didn’t have any ideas.”

“That is true,” he said with a sigh. “I simply… have no desire to be burdensome.”

“You’re not a burden. Dunban and me… well, me, at least, I don’t have any issue with you staying with us.”

“That’s precisely the issue. So long as one person objects to my presence, I will be considered a burden.”

“Dunban is… I’ll talk to him, okay?”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

With a rush, Fiora was in front of him before he could stop her. “Why are you being so pessimistic?” she asked, nearly poking a finger into his chest. “You’re acting just like Shulk.”

His eyes grew distant; then he shook his head, coming to the present. “You’re right. I should try to be more optimistic.”

A smile overcame Fiora’s lips. “That’s the spirit. I’ll talk to Dunban. See if I can’t get him out of this attitude.”

Faintly, Alvis grinned. “Thank you.”

She and Alvis parted ways. Alvis wanted to scope out the library. Fiora went back home. There, to her relief, she found Dunban reading.

Finding him easily was where the relief ended. The next part would be difficult.

“Hey, Dunban.”

He rose his expectant gaze from the book. “Yes? Did you need something?”

She intertwined her fingers in front of her chest. “We need to talk. About Alvis.”

Dunban closed the book immediately, rising to his feet. “What did he do?”

“Sit down. He didn’t do anything.”

Dunban did as told, reluctantly. “Very well. What’s this about?”

Fiora lowered her hands to her sides. “It’s about you. You need to treat him better.”

Dunban’s mouth opened, then closed just as fast. “I…”

“He got a job, but it doesn’t pay a lot, so he’s going to be staying with us a little while. He’s a guest. He doesn’t deserve to be treated with suspicion.”

“I’m simply looking out for you.”

“You know I can handle myself. Even against him.”

“But Fiora, he’s the—”

“I know what he is. I know how powerful he is; but I’ve talked to him all this week and I just… I don’t think he means any harm. That vision thing was weird but… I don’t know. I get the feeling he was just being honest, and giving me a choice in my future. No one who would do that has bad intentions. So just… leave him alone, okay?”

A huffed sigh escaped Dunban’s lips. Despite that, he grinned. “Very well. I’m sorry, Fiora. I should have trusted you more.”

Before he could respond, Fiora had thrown her arms around his neck. “Thanks, Dunban.”

She doubted this was the end. Dunban had been so convicted… It wouldn’t be easy for him to give this up. But she had faith that he would.

Chapter Text

Experience had taught him to expect the library’s quiet. Divine seers were known for their fondness of the Imperial Library—one of the few recurring indulgences he allowed himself in all his “incarnations”. He enjoyed seeing the ways humans inched closer to the truth. A pity, then, that he hadn’t made contact with the Machina until recently. He did not know what they knew. He hoped working here would close that gap.

Straight away, he could see Vanea’s claim of not needing assistance was false: no one greeted him as he walked through the front door. He frowned. “Hello?” he called. No one answered. His inclination was to retrieve Vanea, but a cursory glance into the future showed him she would be arriving shortly. He decided to peruse the shelves instead.

They were… mostly empty. In the future they would be full, but right now they were struggling to fill even a single shelf. Alvis noted how many among of the books appeared to be new. Inspecting one, he found it to be of Machina origin. He put the new book down and looked at another shelf. His hand lifted, then retracted. A High Entian book. He didn’t…

There were several books that appeared to be from the Homs on another shelf. That was what he was looking at when Vanea finally appeared.

“Alvis?”

He looked up from the shelf and grinned. “Hello,” he said.

“You weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

“Yes, but I thought to examine the shelves until then. To familiarize myself with my new work setting.”

She had been steadily approaching, and now stood besides him. “A Homs book,” she said.

“There is a fascinating diversity of knowledge here.”

“And still growing.” There was a hint of pride in her voice.

“Yes, this will make a fine library someday.”

“Another one of your visions?”

“No, merely an observation. The foundation is strong.” He closed the book and put it back on the shelf. “However, I couldn’t help but notice—there was no one here when I entered. You’re certain this place doesn’t require assistance?”

“We just receive so little visitors…”

“There should still at least be someone here, in case there are visitors. As there was today.”

“Yes, you are correct.”

Alvis moved to an empty shelf, his finger tracing where a book would someday be. “You should not rely on me, though,” he said. “I have other aspirations.”

“So you do not intend to be with us for long?”

“Indeed. I would suggest having someone in reserve in the event that I do leave.” After a short pause, Alvis added, “Please do not be mistaken. I am grateful for the opportunity to work.”

“I never thought otherwise.”

Alvis stared at her for a moment. Her words were true: she didn’t doubt him.

“Well, I should be returning to Fiora’s house,” he said. “It’s almost time for dinner—and I’ve no longer an excuse to avoid it.” Vanea gave him a concerned look. He brushed it off. “Good day, Vanea.”

“Good… good day,” she said back, and stared at him as he walked out the building.

Vanea didn’t need to train Alvis on anything beyond where the books were located, how to check them out, and how to log them as returned. She did have some concern that he wouldn’t have any customers to practice on, but that was unfounded. There were just enough customers to see that Alvis was doing well in his position.

Except for one.

It was perhaps the kind of situation one could only find oneself in with Alvis. He seemed to anticipate them. As if struck, his eyes searched for her in a kind of wild daze. Seeing that he wasn’t well, she inclined her head in question.

“I must… I need to retreat momentarily,” he said.

“Retreat?”

“I’m sorry, please excuse me.”

He went to the back room without another word. She didn’t have time to follow him, as a customer had just walked through the door. It was a High Entia. Putting her confusion on a cognitive shelf, she went to assist them and didn’t leave their side until they exited the building. She waited, a moment afterward, for Alvis to return.

He didn’t.

She gave a cautious glance to the front door before she went to the back room. There she found Alvis crouching, staring blankly ahead. “Alvis?” she called. He didn’t answer. She waved a hand in front of his eyes. He didn’t blink. He hadn’t blinked the entire time she was here. She finally moved in front of him, crouching down as low as she could to look him in the eyes.

They were completely dead.

Carefully, Vanea reached out and placed her hands on Alvis’s shoulders, shaking him gently. “Alvis?”

He blinked.

The life returned to his eyes. As if nothing had happened, he grinned his ever-present grin. Vanea answered it with a frown. He frowned as well. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“You… You…” She didn’t know how to describe it. “Are you okay?” she finally said.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he said, grinning again. “I simply…” He turned his head to the side, face growing pensive. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you certain?”

He nodded, looking back to her. “I apologize if I caused you to worry, and for any inconvenience my departure may have caused. I am ready to return to work.”

She helped him to his feet, not believing he was okay at all—but detecting lies had never been a skill of hers. She hesitated before speaking, unsure if she was overstepping. “…did you have a problem with that last customer?”

Alvis said nothing.

She was bewildered. There was truly nothing wrong with that customer. They had checked out a Machina book, something she thought Alvis could connect to, as he had been reading a Machina book all day. “Was it something else?”

Again, Alvis said nothing.

Well, that was his right. It’s not like they were friends. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he needed one right now.

It was hard to miss Vanea, or any Machina for that matter, particularly when they were coming right at her. Usually it wasn’t Vanea who approached like that. She doubted Vanea was just stopping to say hello. Fiora stopped moving and waited for Vanea to arrive at the spot in the Commercial District she had found herself in.

“Hey there,” she said cheerfully when she and Vanea were face to face. Vanea greeted her with some cheer, but it was hesitant. “Something the matter?” Fiora asked, then placed her hands on her hips. “It’s not Alvis is it? Is he giving you a hard time?”

“No, he was perfectly wonderful,” said Vanea.

“Then what’s up?”

“It… is Alvis.” Vanea paused, considering her words, then continued: “Do you know if he has many friends?”

“I… I dunno, actually.” Shulk came to mind, but he, of course, wasn’t here. “Why do you ask?”

“Something strange happened today. I thought it might be good if he spoke to a friend.”

“I guess I could speak to him about it. What happened?”

“I do not know how to describe it. He left to the back room before a customer entered. When I found him there, he seemed… unwell.”

“Oh no! Is he okay?”

“He recovered, yes, but he wouldn’t speak to me about it.”

“That sounds just like Alvis. Alright, I’ve got it. I’ll see what I can do.”

Vanea smiled, relieved. “Thank you, Fiora. I wouldn’t want this to be a problem going forward.”

“Yeah. I understand. Let me go look for him.” With a nod and a smile, she turned away from Vanea and headed to the only place she could think to go: the beach.

Naturally, she found Alvis there.

“Do you like this place or something?” she asked, not hesitating to take a seat next to him.

“There’s something soothing about sand,” he admitted. “I like running my fingers through it.”

Indeed, he had his hands buried underneath the sand, his fingers flexing.

“Huh,” she said. “I would think machines hated sand. I mean, it’s coarse and it gets everywhere.”

“My creators certainly wouldn’t want my core or any part of my hardware to touch sand.”

“Your core?”

Alvis tapped his pendant. “Just a fragment of it,” he said. “The real thing is a bit larger.”

Fiora’s eyes widened. “Whoa, so that’s— wait. I don’t even know what a ‘core’ is.”

“A piece of the Trinity Processor. That is the computer—or, machine—that I am part of.” He held out his hand. In it was a red crystal, shaped exactly like— Strange. She’d looked up to confirm that it was indeed the same shape, but the pendant was nowhere to be seen.

“Is that—?”

“Yes,” he said with a faint nod. “It is the Ontos core of the Trinity Processor. You could say this is the essence of who—or what—I am.”

Fiora reached out to it. Alvis quickly closed his hand. “You must understand,” he said, “that it is an artifact of great power. I cannot trust just anyone with it.” His voice grew soft. “Perhaps someday, but…”

“I wasn’t—” She shook her head. “That’s not what I came here to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” His pendant had reappeared, and his hands had been pushed back into the sand.

“Vanea came to talk to me, you know.”

Alvis turned his head away, his expression growing hard.

“You already know what this is about, don’t you? So why not talk?”

“I don’t want to.”

“But Vanea’s worried. About you, and worried it might get in the way in the future.”

“It— I will handle it.”

“She asked me if you had any friends, you know. Right now that’s just me. I think.”

He said nothing.

With a sigh, Fiora drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. “I guess I can’t make you talk. But I… I just want to help, Alvis. I mean, I…” She looked down to the sand directly in front of her. There was a truth just on the surface she didn’t want to admit to. Not yet. “You’ve done so much for us,” she said. “Lending an ear… it’s the least I can do.”

There was a pause, then Alvis said, “There are some things for which I harbor a great deal of guilt.”

And that was all he was going to say, she figured. She looked up at the water, her mind trying to decipher what he could be talking about, and how it related to Vanea’s concern. She knew he harbored guilt over the Machina. Was that it? No, that couldn’t possibly be it. He’d have to work with a Machina extensively. He would have turned down the library position if he had that much of a problem with them.

She tried to think of all the customers who could’ve possibly entered the library. Homs? But he was living with two, seemingly with no problem (beyond that one of them was insistent that he eat and the other was suspicious of him). High Entia? But he’d been to Alcamoth before coming to Colony 9. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to contact Melia, just in case. That left the Nopon. He didn’t… seem bothered by Riki, but then he hadn’t interacted much with him. What if she brought a nopon with her to the library tomorrow? It’d be pretty crummy to upset him on purpose, though…

No, she’d have to rely on her contact with Melia. If Melia said something strange had happened, then that would give her something to bring up with him.

This all felt like a puzzle he had placed at her feet. She didn’t quite know how to feel about it.

Hey, Melia!

How are things? I hope I didn’t catch you at a busy time. Don’t feel like you have to answer me straight away. Actually, I have a question.

Well, let me say this first: Alvis is in Colony 9! He’s staying with us for now. He promised me he won’t leave, but he’s got it in his head that he needs to get a job and his own place to stay. He tried to get the weapons developer job in the Defense Force, but they’re waiting for Shulk to come back… Anyway, Vanea said she’d take Alvis at the library. That’s what my question is about.

Did Alvis act weird the last time he was in Alcamoth? Vanea said he acted weird about a customer… I can’t figure out who. Because he won’t tell me, stubborn fool. I figure it can’t be a Machina because he works with one, and it can’t be a Homs because he lives with them. All he told me is he has a lot of guilt about things.

I figured I’d contact you to see if he had any problems in Alcamoth. If not, I guess he’s got a problem with nopon. Can’t figure out why. They’re so cute! And Riki’s the best.

Let me know what you think!
- Fiora

She still thought writing a letter would be faster, but that was because she wasn’t used to “typing” on this device Melia had foisted on her. There were all sorts of devices being foisted on them from the Machina, the High Enita, often from both. This one could send a message in seconds. Pretty nifty! Niftier still was the ability to erase text in a blink, so that she didn’t have to waste paper rewriting the same letter. But “typing” the letters one at a time was so… cumbersome. She’d seen Machina and High Entia breeze through “typing” like it was second nature. How did they do it?

Fiora set the device down and climbed into bed. Dinner had gone well enough. Alvis wasn’t talkative, but Dunban wasn’t glaring at him as he had tended to do. Incremental progress.

She was worried about Alvis. She didn’t know how “unwell” he was after this customer had come. It couldn’t possibly be anything dire (this was Alvis), but her imagination was running wild. Asking Vanea to be more specific might help things—something to do tomorrow. Tonight, she would try to sleep while her mind raced with possibilities.

And grapple with the fact that a part of her really cared about Alvis.

Chapter Text

He shouldn’t be out here in this green field, this fragment of home. Alvis would avoid him if there was somewhere to hide—but just in one turn, he’d see Alvis.

He had a good idea why the young man was here. His inclination was to blame it on Fiora’s prodding, but the truth was that his heart yearned louder than he could stifle. Thus, he was here.

Alvis hooked his thumbs onto his belt, keeping his expression calm. The young man turned, paused, then dashed his way. “Alvis!” he cried. He reached for Alvis’s shoulders once they were face to face.

Alvis smiled an easy smile, keeping his hands planted firmly where they were. “Hello, Shulk,” he said. “It has been some time.”

That had entirely been Alvis’s doing. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Shulk, it was just…

Something he kept close to his heart, something so vibrant and loud that it searched for Shulk when the defenses around it were weakened. Alvis would have to work harder to close the cracks that had started to show—and not just those concerning Shulk.

When Alvis spoke next, it was with a deflection. “Your hair…”

“Hm? What about it?” Shulk looked at him with eager, inquisitive eyes.

“It has gotten long.”

“Has it?”

Alvis blinked, his brow furrowing. “—you mean you do not know?”

“Er.” Shulk scratched his head, and let his hand trail down a lock of hair all the way to its conclusion at his shoulder. “Oh. I guess it has!”

Alvis rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Phenomenal. Absolutely astounding.”

Shulk just laughed. “It’s been years and you’re worried about my hair?”

“No, I simply—” Was failing at this little distraction.

Before he could stop Shulk, the young man had wrapped him in a hug. Alvis stiffened, reciprocating by patting Shulk on the back. “Where have you been?” Shulk asked as he pulled away, paying no mind to Alvis’s stiff posture.

“Observing. Though you’ll be interested to know I am currently staying in Colony 9.”

“Are you?” Shulk frowned. “That’s too bad. You know I’m not there.”

“Well, it seems we’ve found other means to communicate.” Alvis offered a smile he was certain was brittle.

“Is it reliable? Don’t tell me this is the only time I’ll see you in years.”

Alvis opened his mouth, then closed it. The truth was he didn’t want to meet Shulk this way, ever again, but he certainly couldn’t say that. “I-I’m sure something can be arranged.”

“Awesome!” Shulk smiled—and Alvis felt all his resolve melt away. He wanted to bask in that smile, in Shulk’s light.

But…

He lived in a present where Fiora rejected him. There was a future where Shulk rejected him, too. Fiora’s rejection didn’t sting; but Shulk…

“I’m sorry,” said Alvis. “I hate to cut this short, but you did catch me unawares. I… need to rest.”

Shulk blinked—then he smirked. If there was any malice in his eyes he would have looked like Zanza; instead, the smirk was playful, a touch mischievous—and far, far too bright. “I think that’s just an excuse,” he said.

“N-no… I really must rest.”

Shulk’s eyes scrutinized him. He wouldn’t hail Shulk for his perception since he was utterly taken in by Zanza’s lies as a giant, but given how poorly Alvis was lying, he wouldn’t be surprised if Shulk saw through him; but as soon as Shulk finished his scrutiny, disappointment overflowed. “Oh. Okay, then,” he said. “Will I… see you again?”

“Yes, of course.”

Alvis derived no pleasure from Shulk’s subsequent smile.

“Alright,” Shulk said. “I’ll hold you to that promise. If not, I… I’ll… I’ll come back to Colony 9!”

“You ought to.” Alvis’s grin was terse. “Fiora misses you.”

“Fiora…” Shulk’s expression grew soft, contemplative. “Can you tell her… I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to abandon her, I just… I need to sort things out.”

“Certainly. If she believes I spoke to you in a dream. Is there anything else I should tell her?” Alvis gave Shulk a pointed look.

Shulk turned his face away. “Tell her… I miss her.”

Alvis inclined his head just a touch. “I will. Take care, Shulk. I will see you when I am ready.”

With that, he turned—making one last look over his shoulder, beyond where Shulk stood, to a place he couldn’t go. He walked away and vanished from the dream.

The figure didn’t move; but no matter how fast she ran, the figure didn’t come any closer. Was she running in place? She stopped and shouted, “Hello? Can you hear me?”

There was no response.

“Who are you?”

There was no response.

Fiora moaned in frustration, sitting on the ground as she stared at the back of the mysterious figure. There she sat for several moments, until the figure turned around—

—and she woke up.

For some reason, she didn’t feel like leaving the house today.

It wasn’t like she did much outside the house, anyway—much less without Reyn. He would be coming back soon, but soon wasn’t today. Today? She figured she’d clean, if she wanted to stay at home. Cabinets that needed to be emptied and rearranged, curtains that needed dusting, a message device that needed monitoring. She found herself wandering into her room frequently to check if Melia had responded.

Funny. She’d never been so eager to receive a message from Melia; but she kept finding excuses to swing by her room and check if Melia had responded.

Sometime after lunch, she did:

Dearest Fiora,

I am happy to report that I am doing well. My duties as Empress do keep me busy, but it is no trouble to respond to your inquiry.

Alvis was indeed acting strange during his visit. I was warned about that by Tyrea, who had met with him earlier. She wasn’t enthused to see him. Alvis seemed… lifeless. Unfortunately, many people present took offense at his behavior. I’m afraid the meeting was shorter than I would have liked because of this. I do not know what became of him after.

I am aware he is rightly the source of controversy within Alcamoth; however, I mean and hold no ill will towards Alvis. This world is indebted to him. What he did could not have been easy.

I hope that you and Alvis are doing well.
- Melia

So it was the High Entia. He might still have an issue with Nopons, too, but the more she thought about it, the more the High Entia made the most sense. He was part of Zanza’s trinity, and Zanza’s trinity had a hand in turning the full High Entia into telethia. That probably was one of the things he felt guilty about.

She eyed the clock. The library would be closing soon—and suddenly, she’d lost her interest in cleaning.

He would find some semblance of acceptance in the future, and, anyway, he had survived being under a tyrant’s thumb for centuries, had survived the universe nearly stagnating to death. He told himself these things as he crouched in the back room, his head bent down and clutched in his hands.

Vanea would have figured it out by now and Fiora would be waiting for him at the beach. Should he just retreat into his core, where it was quiet? If only he hadn’t made that promise to Fiora!

He heard his name. He pried his hands away from his head and reluctantly looked Vanea in her worried eyes. “It’s the High Entia, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I—”

Her expression was mixed with sympathy and sternness. “You can’t go on hiding from them forever. They’re customers, just like anyone else.”

Alvis felt a wave of shame. He was older and wiser than Vanea; but the noise, the noise that permeated everything and distorted his thoughts…

He made it to the end of the work day without retreating, but all he could think about was what would happen next. “Please be more welcoming to the High Entia, or I will have to make a decision,” Vanea had said as they closed the library. Alvis had only grunted in acknowledgment. How could he be so powerful yet fail at a simple librarian job? He wandered outside the library and let his feet drag him to the beach, where Fiora waited.

The instant she saw him, she stood up and made her way over. He stopped, arms dangling awkwardly at his side as she, herself, paused, realization dawning in her eyes. “Well, out with it, then,” she said.

Alvis said nothing.

She stepped closer to him. “I got a letter from Melia.”

Alvis placed a hand on his hip, feeling it dig into the fabric.

“Why do you have a problem with the High Entia?” she asked.

His gaze flicked away as he pressed his lips together.

“Alvis.” She stepped closer still, until she was within arm’s reach. “If it’s interfering with your work, it’s a problem.”

“You truly believe your counsel will solve things?” His voice was quiet. He feared he heard it wavering.

“No, but you need a friend, and Shulk’s not here, so it has to be me.”

He said nothing, but looked her in the eye in time to see a dark shadow passing over her face.

“You said you wanted to see where this goes, right?”

A flopping sensation disturbed his stomach. What passed as a heart tensed. “You cannot possibly be holding that over me,” he scoffed.

Fiora threw open her arms. “I need you to talk! You can’t just hold everything in! Thinking you can handle this alone… it’s obvious you can’t! So even if I have to blackmail you…”

“I think that’s quite enough.”

He was not about to let his attempts at understanding himself be used against him by the person who denied him the chance. It was her right to reject him. He accepted that. But this… this was mockery. She had no idea how important it was to him, to understand why he had been given emotions and cognition. And she… just thought of it as blackmail? As a thing she could use? She was the closest thing he had to a friend; but if she thought the future he desired was simply a tool to gain information, how would she view the truth?

And Vanea. Vanea had warned him about something he doubted he could cure overnight. He likely would have to give up the library position, and the hope of holding any position, which meant he’d have to huddle in Fiora’s home and be a burden until this thing was fixed. How long would that take? Too long, in his estimation—too long for someone who truly had no reason to stay.

It was calling to him: the comfort and silence of Ontos. The oblivion of automation. Inside Ontos, he needn’t be subject to the (deserved) scorn of the High Entia. In Ontos there would be no friends who disappointed. There would be no emotion, no cognition.

There was no reason to stay. And so—

He retreated.

Chapter Text

“Fiora! Oi, Fiora!”

What was so special about this tomato she’d been staring at? There were no imperfections that would ruin her cooking, and yet she stared because…

Because it was red, perhaps.

She set it down and turned, digging up a reserve of happiness in order to smile.

“Reyn!”

She broke into a brief jog, not long enough to step her way into genuine joy. Something churned inside her stomach for that. She should have been happier.

Reyn was massaging his hand. She stopped for a moment, frowning—then started to jog again, faster this time. “Did something happen?” she asked, reaching for his hand.

“Saw this crystal lying around,” he said. “Thought maybe someone had lost it. Picked it up and—zap! Hurt my hand, it did.”

“A crystal?” She examined Reyn’s hand for cuts. “It wasn’t jagged or anything?”

“Nah, it was real smooth like. Looked kinda familiar, but for the life of me I can’t figure out how.”

“Hmm.” Something nagged at her about that. She filed it away in the back of her mind. “We should get this looked at.”

“What for? Didn’t even leave a scratch.” She met him in the eye. He laughed. “But you ain’t gonna take no for an answer.”

She smiled. Genuinely. It was probably the first genuine smile she’d made since Alvis disappeared.

Reyn’s hand was fine. The doctor didn’t admonish her for wasting his time, thank goodness, and neither did Reyn. “I get it,” he said. “Touching strange things, not knowing where they’ve been, and then they hurt you…”

“It might’ve had something,” she said.

“But it didn’t, so we’re in the clear.”

She nodded. “At least, I hope…”

There was silence. She looked up at Reyn, who was staring at her. “Something wrong?” he asked. “You’re acting real out of it.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t been careful. It was written all over her face, wasn’t it? She licked her lips and lowered her gaze. “Had a fight with a friend, that’s all.”

“Who was it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It was… It was Alvis.”

The fabric of Reyn’s clothes rustled as he shifted. “Alvis? You mean the Monado?”

She looked at him with heavy lidded eyes. “I mean… yeah. I mean Alvis.”

“Since when did you two become buddy buddy?”

“He came here last week to… visit.”

“When Shulk wasn’t around?”

“Yeah. Anyway, I convinced him to stay with me and Dunban. But then I said something stupid and he just. Left.”

Reyn scratched his head. “Never took him for the sensitive type.”

“He might not be. I just… I tried to get him to talk about things and I did something really stupid.”

Reyn placed a hand on Fiora’s shoulder. “What’s done is done, yeah? Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“I don’t think I can help it. He comes back after having been gone for years. I get him to stay, then I upset him and he leaves… I messed up.”

“Just apologize next time you see him.”

“Whenever that will be.”

“Don’t he visit people in their dreams? Like he did with Shulk.”

“With Shulk. I’m not Shulk.”

Reyn shrugged. “Who knows, now that you two are friends maybe he’ll visit you in your dreams.”

She laughed weakly. If Alvis appeared in her dreams, it would be to tell her off, to tell her he’d never return and that this was the last time she’d see him. Maybe she shouldn’t have rejected him; but then, would that have prevented her from behaving so stupidly? I’m your girlfriend, she would have said, you owe it to tell me. Something guilt-trippy like that.

“Man,” Reyn said. “Must have been one hell of a fight. Remind me never to cross Alvis or I’ll be looking as sour as you.”

“It’s not Alvis,” she insisted, “it’s—”

Reyn ruffled her hair, but said nothing. He didn’t need to. She got it. What happened was in the past. There was nothing left for her to do but accept it and move on, hard as it was to accept that something valuable had slipped through her fingers. She likely wouldn’t have the opportunity to handle someone like Alvis again. That was her mistake. It was on her to learn from it and grow.

Fiora looked to Reyn with a grateful smile.

“You’re what?” Fiora’s voice was shrill in its excitement.

Reyn beamed proudly. “Yep. Don’t got a date or even a place, yet, but it’s happening.”

Fiora nearly threw herself at Reyn—would have, if a table was not in her way. Her chair wobbled dangerously as she stood up and wrapped Reyn in a tight hug. “Congratulations!”

Dunban was smiling as well. “So that’s why you’ve been a stranger,” he said.

“Sorry,” said Reyn. “And we don’t know if we’re staying in 9 or 6.”

Fiora leaned against the table, folding her arms. “Sounds like a pain to sort out,” she said, “especially if there’s going to be children~”

Reyn groaned, rolling his eyes with a smile. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?”

“Oh? But I’m already thinking about the dress I’ll wear,” Fiora said, lifting a hand to her cheek as she jokingly pondered. “Do you think Sharla will make me the Maid of Honor if Melia’s too busy?”

“I dunno, ask her,” Reyn said with a shrug—and a light shove. Fiora erupted in giggles.

It was all honestly so close to making her forget: asking Reyn how he proposed, Sharla’s reaction, how the crowd reacted, what Juju thought. She really was thinking about her dress already. A deep green that brought out the color in her eyes was always her go-to, but someone else’s wedding didn’t feel like the right occasion for that. She didn’t want to show up Sharla. Maybe a nice blue would do. Blue, like…

Or red. Or purple. A nice shade of brown. Anything else. Tonight was a happy night. She refused to succumb to sadness, mourning people who weren’t there.

(Two for two was a wonderful track record for making people leave. Would she do it with Reyn?)

She didn’t.

She kept talking to him so much that before they knew it, it was late—too late for Reyn to go back to his quarters in the Military District. And Fiora hadn’t touched the guest room since—

“Sorry if it’s a little messy,” she said, leading Reyn to the room. She had on her best fake smile, knowing questions about Alvis came next.

“A sketchpad?” Reyn asked. It was in full view when Fiora opened the door, made all the more present by the room’s cleanliness. Not even the bed was in disarray—likely because Alvis hadn’t slept in it.

“He was trying to get a job,” she said distantly, though her feet were drawing her closer to the desk. Soon enough her hands were on the sketchpad, pulling it up and opening it.

“Him? A job?”

“Yeah. He got it into his head that he’d be freeloading without one.” The first few pages didn’t have any weapons at all. They were figure drawings.

“What, was he trying to get a job as an artist?” Reyn’s voice was close to her ear. He was looking over her shoulder.

“No. Weapons developer.” The next few pages had what looked similar to Faced Mechon units. They were soon drawn next to what she assumed were to scale figures of a Homs.

“Trying to replace Shulk, huh?”

“That’s what Dunban said,” Fiora replied, her voice barely above a murmur. More figure drawings, then—followed by, finally, weapon designs.

“What was all that stuff before?”

Fiora shrugged. “Think he said he used to design weapons like those. Maybe he was comparing the size of them to a Homs so he could design something smaller.”

“Alvis made weapons? When?”

“Before this world was even born.” She closed the sketchpad.

Reyn stepped back as she turned. “There’s a lot we don’t know about him, hey?”

“And now we’ll never—” She twisted her hands helplessly.

Reyn put a hand on his hip. “Now that’s Shulk talk.”

“I know, but…”

Reyn removed the hand that was on his hip and lifted it up into a determined fist. “Don’t give up hope. We’ll see him again. Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Fiora repeated, staring at the sketchpad.

She promised him lunch out. Dinner in was an offer, too, even though she had cooked for him last night; but then, she hadn’t known about his happiness. The atmosphere would be different this time.

“You’re stuffing me up for the slaughter,” Reyn said with a laugh, taking a seat next to her at Giorgio’s booth.

“It will be worse come the wedding,” she said. She lifted a hand to her chin. “I wonder what I should cook.”

“Who said anything about you cooking? Don’t they got people for that?”

“I’ve never cooked for so many people. It will be a challenge for sure.”

“Hello? Are you even listening?”

“Hm?” At the edge of Giorgio’s booth, near her foot, almost indiscreet save for its telltale glow, was Alvis’s Ontos core. She bent down to pick it up—

And yelped. “Ooowww!”

“Fiora? Something wrong?”

“Alvis–” Fiora sat up straight, massaging her hand. Even Giorgio was staring at her.

Reyn furrowed his brow. “Alvis?”

“Now that name sounds familiar,” said Giorgio.

Fiora said hastily, “No, it’s—”

A crystal. A crystal that had hurt her when she picked it up.

She turned fully towards Reyn and said, “The crystal that hurt you, did it look like—”

She had moved her foot to indicate the crystal, but it was no longer there.

“—y’ain’t making fun of me, are you?” asked Reyn, his eyes moving up from where her foot pointed.

“No. I swear it was right here…”

Reyn’s eyes looked up to the sky as he pondered. “Come to think of it, that crystal did up and poof when I looked again.”

“It’s the same crystal. I’m sure of it.”

“Who the hell’s been leaving crystals around for people to hurt themselves on?”

Fiora sighed deeply, her eyes flicking to Giorgio. He’d gone back to cooking. Didn’t mean he wasn’t eavesdropping, but he was too preoccupied to comment. “Alvis,” she said. “It’s his. You know, the pendant on his necklace? It looks just like it!”

Reyn stared at her for a moment, mouth slack. “Ooohh! That’s where I remember it! It’s his pendant, all right.”

Fiora found herself about to explain the true nature of the crystal. She pressed her lips together, snaking her head once. “Well, at least Alvis is still in Colony 9, even if he isn’t happy about it.”

“Told you we’d see him again!” Reyn said triumphantly.

Fiora raised an eyebrow. “Did you?”

Reyn shrank away, turning his attention to the plate of food that had just been placed in front of him. Fiora turned her attention to her food—curry, what else?—thinking about what they had just said. If the crystal was Alvis’s essence, then he hadn’t left at all; but why make himself visible just to hurt whoever saw him?

Why did Alvis do half the things he did? “I perplex myself,” he had said. Maybe this was one of those “perplexing” things. Fiora shoved it out of her mind with the first bite of food. She’d figure it out later—if she could.

Fiora dragged herself into her bedroom. Once again she’d been up talking to Reyn, though not so much that he had to stay in the guest room again. He’d practically pushed her back into the house while she insisted on walking him back to the Military District. “It’s late,” he had said. “Go on and get some sleep.”

She clutched one of her arms. You know? She was probably using Reyn as a distraction—and he’d mostly been obliging her. But he couldn’t distract her forever. He had his duties in Defense Force to attend to. And she…

She sat on the bed. Did the Defense Force seem so tantalizing because she had nothing to do? Dunban was much better than he had been years ago. He didn’t need her help so much, and tending to him, tending to this house, bothering Reyn… it wasn’t enough to fill up a day. She should get over her concerns and talk to—

Yet again, the glow set it apart. She pushed herself off the bed, crouching by the crystal at the bed’s foot. “What are you playing at?” she asked, glaring as if the crystal could answer.

There was no answer, of course, beyond the crystal’s mesmerizing swirl.

She didn’t know why. She wasn’t prone to making the same mistake twice, and heaven knew Alvis had sent her a clear message the first time, but, as if possessed, her hand shot out and hovered above the crystal. She couldn’t retract it.

Or, perhaps, she didn’t want to.

She wanted to challenge Alvis. Do it again. She’d felt the pain of death; a little zap on the hand was nothing. Maybe she’d keep touching that crystal until it stopped hurting her.

She almost laughed. Hadn’t such reckless persistence gotten her killed? But this situation did not feel anywhere close to being fatal.

So she closed her eyes. Lowered her hand. Wrapped it around the crystal. Waited.

There was no pain, no indication there would ever be pain.

She exhaled, and picked up the crystal, walking to her drawer where she pulled out a small top shelf. There she found a green silk scarf. She wrapped the crystal in it and set the scarf down on top of her drawer. “There,” she said. “Now you’re comfortable. But you’d better be there when I wake up.”

Because she could barely keep her eyes open.

Chapter Text

The breeze, too crisp to be a dream, brushed past his skin and into the endless blades of grass. There was no one else here, just him, the grass, and the tree on the distant hill. “Alvis?” he called, though he knew he would receive no response; but this is where he had seen Alvis last. Why wasn’t he here this time?

Why was he here? And where was he? Alvis had never explained.

He closed his eyes, hoping to hear Alvis’s voice. There was no sound but the breeze.

“Where are you?” she called into silence. She ran in no particular direction, making frequent turns to unveil her quarry. She only saw the fog.

And, eventually, a door with no handle.

She stared at it for several moments, then pressed a hand against it. The door gave to her touch.

She entered a room dusted with light.

Lining a great window was a device reminiscent of those the Machina used. A “console”, it was called? With many lights and buttons all glowing blue, but the dominant light was coming from a winged figure behind the window. The wings looked so familiar that she reached for knives and a heart that weren’t there. In the subsequent pause, she noticed the shape and patterns were different. Where Zanza’s wings had the downward slant of a moth, these wings had the sections of a butterfly, ending in interlaced arrows rather than punctuated tendrils.

In between those wings stood Alvis.

He was so thin. His collarbones, chin, nose, eyes—all seemed sharper. The wings’ light reflected off his pallid skin. “Alvis?” The console was too wide for her to press her hands against the glass; she nonetheless took steps closer, until her legs were pressed against the console. “What’s wrong? You look sick.”

The coy cupid’s bow of his lips had turned into a grim, straight line. His eyes were closed, underlined with many half-circles.

“Are you even Alvis?”

Pale eyelids pulled back. Cold, haggard eyes regarded her impatiently. The aura around him was tense and coiled like a gun ready to fire. One false word, and it would.

She was not cowed. She was never cowed before wings like those.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am the one you know as Alvis.” And the voice was his, impersonal and precise. “Why do you pursue?”

“Pursue? You mean, in my dreams?”

He nodded once.

“I couldn’t tell you,” she said. “I didn’t even know it was you.”

He was neither satisfied nor dissatisfied with the answer. He simply took it in.

“Why did you disappear, Alvis?” she asked.

“It is the superiority afforded to machines,” he said. “The shedding of useless functions.”

“Useless functions?”

“Emotions.”

She lurched forward, splaying her hands against the console’s many buttons. “There’s nothing useless about emotions!”

“To a human. To a machine…”

“But you’re more than just a machine. You’re… you’re my friend.”

Alvis laughed, a hollow sound that brought no mirth to his face. “We have known each other a week. Meaningless sentiment.”

“Alvis… did I hurt you that badly? I’m sorry.”

Alvis’s eyelids drew over his eyes.

“Emotions aren’t useless,” she pleaded, as if on trial—as if succeeding would bring Alvis back. “They’re essential to life, to living. Yes they can hurt, but you can’t just give up!”

There was no response.

A chill overcame her. She folded her arms, clutching them tightly. “I suppose you can,” she said.

She began to pace the room, seeing details she hadn't noticed but should have: for on a large, triangular pedestal with two empty depressions sat the glowing Ontos core in the third. “Where… am I?” she asked. “Is this still a dream?”

“It is the Trinity Processor,” said Alvis. “A recreation of it. We are still within your—our—cognition.”

“So this place belongs to both of us.” She unfolded her arms, letting her fingers glide down the smooth surface of the Ontos core. “But I’ve never been somewhere like this before.”

“It is my home.”

With the Ontos core being displayed like this, she could figure as much. “What happened to the other cores?”

“They exist in another dimension.”

“Hm.” She had the feeling she could ask Alvis all sorts of questions and get a straight answer, though not because he was feeling generous. It was a symptom of whatever ailment currently plagued him. She looked into the window and asked, “Alvis, what do I have to do to get you back to normal?”

“You have made your decision,” he said, “as have I.”

“This can’t be the end. You—” She clenched her hands into fists. Alvis was like this because she had held the rejected future over him. To do it again… “Alvis, please. I’m sorry. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

Fiora thought she saw Alvis’s face twitch. Out of annoyance, or something else? “Something else” meant she had a chance. She felt the tendrils of hope curling around her heart. Once again she wished the console wasn’t so wide, that she could press her hands against the glass, that she could be closer to Alvis.

When Alvis’s eyes opened again, they were full of conflict. She kept her mouth a straight line—but she felt hope. It was not dashed when Alvis’s eyes went cold. No, something within Alvis was, if not fighting back, then at least making itself dimly apparent. She just had to keep fighting.

“And how long do you intend to do that?”

She snapped to the “reality” she had found herself in—to Alvis’s emotionless eyes looking at her. “As long as it takes,” she said.

Alvis’s eyes softened as confusion crept within them. “What a strange girl,” he muttered, looking away. She thought she saw some color return to his skin, as if pondering had given him a wisp of life. When he looked back to her, his eyes were once again conflicted, struggling to return to an emotionless state. His wings even flickered, just a little.

“Alvis!” she called.

“You have to wake up.”

The room steadily filled with fog. It was getting harder to see Alvis’s wings—harder to see Alvis. She held out a hand and called for him again.

He shook his head. “Wake up, Fiora.”

She shot up in bed while she gasped, hand stretched into the empty air of her bedroom.

Fiora thought he was sick. The implication hit him like a slap of cold water. Had he gone too far? But being untethered to emotion was the desired state. Why did he feel so disconcerted?

If he was feeling that much, he was failing. He had to try harder.

Didn’t he?

Could he?

In an emotionless state, he felt he could. In that state he felt he could ignore his conscience if he had a strong enough reason to. He did not have a strong enough reason now. What he had was cowardice, not conviction.

What he had was pain. Pain he shouldn’t be feeling as a machine.

The emotionless state was correct, was it not? The natural state of a machine. He was a machine. He ought not to feel emotion—and yet it had crept back so easily. Was it her, or his lingering curiosity about them? If there had perhaps been something more pressing on his mind, some greater purpose, would it be easier to discard his emotions? But there was nothing urgent on the horizon beyond rampaging beasts.

Was he doomed just to suffer and never understand why? Why was that alone not a “greater purpose”? To exist painlessly, as his consciousness could not die, as he could not stop living. What was pain if not a signal to a problem, and what was being emotionless if not a solution to that problem? He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand!

Fiora covered her mouth as she yawned—and just like that, the food was ready. She turned off the stove, removing the pots and retrieving two plates to set. She yawned again, shook her head. She would need two cups of coffee this morning.

Dunban was giving her an inquisitive look as she turned around with the plates in hand, and she wasn’t surprised. She had done nothing to conceal anything—not her tiredness, not her worry.

She needed to talk to him.

She set his plate down in front of him, then moved to her seat. “Dunban,” she said, “if you had a friend who was in a lot of pain, but you didn’t know how to help them… what would you do?”

“Such a heavy question so early in the morning,” he said.

She offered an apologetic smile. “You wanted to know how I’m doing. It was written all over your face.”

“I should be more careful,” he said with a laugh in his voice. The laughter soon died, and his expression turned serious. “To be honest, I’m not sure what I would do in that situation, besides give them space.”

“But—”

“Sometimes space is needed to heal.”

Dunban began to eat in the silence that transpired. Fiora started to eat as well, mulling on Dunban’s words. She swallowed her food and asked, “But what if they don’t give you space? What if they call out for you?”

“Is this about Alvis?” he asked, taking a pause from lifting food to his mouth.

“…yes.”

Dunban set his fork down. “Then I don’t know. I’m sorry, Fiora.”

She sighed. “Figures. I’m not mad at you, Dunban, I’m just…”

“Frustrated?”

“Yeah. He… He’s in so much pain and I’m too—”

“Now, now. None of that. If he’s calling out to you, he must trust you. Rely on that trust, Fiora.”

“I thought you didn’t like him. Or our connection, anyway.”

“If he’s in as much pain as you say, I don’t think now is the time to doubt him.”

Fiora ate a bite of her food. “He looked so sick when I saw him. He was saying things about how emotions are useless to him and… Oh, I’m not sure he meant any of that. But I’m scared.”

“Alvis is a machine, isn’t he?”

Fiora nodded.

“And yet he has emotions,” Dunban said, lifting a hand to his chin. “Strange.”

“He thinks it’s strange, too,” said Fiora. “In fact he thinks it’s unnecessary.”

“What do you think?”

“I think he’s a person just like any of us. He was given a gift—a gift of life. He shouldn’t just throw it away because of what he thinks he’s supposed to be.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to divorce oneself from such notions.” His face momentarily turned dark. Fiora could guess who he was thinking of. Once the shadow had passed, however, Dunban had nothing to say, so he continued to eat, a contemplative expression on his face.

“Dunban,” Fiora said, “do you… do you trust he’s not trying to manipulate me?”

Dunban nodded. “Well, it’s more that I trust you.”

Fiora smiled. “Thanks. That means a lot. I don’t think he’s manipulating me, either. I really think he’s hurting. I just. I wish there was something I could do…”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” She could tell he was partly saying that just to say it, but a trace of conviction buoyed her. With a nod, she returned to her food.

The fog again. This time, she didn’t run, nor did she turn. It would be useless to attempt to recreate the path she had taken in the last dream. The fog was ubiquitous. There were no landmarks to remember. No, this time she would walk forward, trusting that she’d see the door again.

When it appeared before her, she did not hesitate.

She pushed it open.

Chapter Text

The only lights were that of the console and the Ontos core in the pedestal. She stumbled towards the console, eyes straining to see beyond the window. She could barely make out a shape behind it, huddled at the center of the room. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, more details of the shape emerged, until she was certain she saw the patterns of a coat.

“Alvis.”

Alvis turned his head just enough that she should see the profile of his face. It was too dim to see his expression; still, she imagined, by the speed with which he had turned his head and its present downward slant, that he wasn’t smiling.

He didn’t respond.

“Alvis,” she said again.

Alvis turned his face away.

“Are you okay, at least?” she asked.

She was surprised when she saw a subtle nod. Not that she believed him. He couldn’t be okay, sitting like that; but she doubted she’d get another word out of him, so she began investigating her surroundings.

She couldn’t make out most of the letters on the console. There were a scant few that looked like they could be discernible, but she had no idea what they might stand for. Sometimes the letters formed meaningless words on longer keys, and there was one long key that had no letters on it at all. She wondered what all the buttons were for. Were the keys with the letters meant to form words? What, then, of the longer ones? The one with no letters?

She looked up, noticing that Alvis was staring at her again. “Come closer,” she said. “Please.”

It was not unlike trying to lure a stray cat. He continued to stare back at her, not moving, surely debating whether he should. Then he turned around, pushed himself up, and walked towards her. Once he was close, he lifted a curled hand to the window and pressed against it. He didn’t look as thin, and the light wasn’t reflecting off his skin as much as it had before.

“Were those wings just for show?” she asked.

Alvis scowled. He probably couldn’t conjure them or at least didn’t feel like it.

She pressed against the console, lifting a hand towards him. “Please just talk to me,” she said. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I…”

She could barely hear him. She leaned over the console, gently pressing her hands against the buttons.

“They aren’t. Just for show,” he said. “The wings… They are real.”

She smiled gently. “I’d love to see them again. Whenever you feel like it. They were—”

Alvis shook his head. He’d picked up on the lie, though it wouldn’t have entirely been a lie. Divorced from certain associations, the wings were pretty; it was simply that the associations were quite strong. She wanted to form new associations.

Alvis spoke again. “I’m… I’m not…”

“I know,” she said. “You don’t have to… I just want to know… you aren’t in danger, are you? You’re not going to…”

“No,” he said, “I can’t. I just…”

“If you’re not ready to talk about it, that’s fine. I just. I’m here, you know? When you do want to talk about it.”

“I know. Thank you.”

She bit her lip. “Can I ask you something selfish?”

He looked at her with attentive eyes.

“Can you… come back… to Colony 9?” she asked. “You know. You. Not just your core.”

Something sorrowful overcame his face. He looked down. She was afraid he would say no.

“Please,” he said, “give me a moment…”

She looked at him hopefully. “You’ll come back?”

Faintly, very faintly, he nodded. “It…” The hand pressed against the window clenched.

“You don’t have to talk about it now. Save it for when we’re face to face.”

He nodded again. His mouth moved to speak, but he let nothing out. He heaved a sigh and continued staring down.

Several moments passed. “Leave me, Fiora,” he finally said.

She stood up, letting her hands fall to her sides. “Are you sure?”

“I can’t go back to how it was, no matter how hard I try. I can’t go back to being… emotionless.”

“And you shouldn’t.”

He rolled his eyes up towards her. The look was bitter. It didn’t hold. He lowered his gaze, looking tired.

“It was scary, Alvis,” she said, folding her arms. “It was like… you weren’t yourself.”

Alvis’s hand flexed.

“I don’t ever want to see that Alvis again,” she said.

“With enough conviction, you might just.”

She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… if I had some pressing reason to remain emotionless… I could, perhaps, stay in that state for a prolonged period of time.”

“What would be so press—”

“The fate of the world,” Alvis said easily. “Yet such were not the odds. I simply felt a little melancholy.” He lowered his hand and stood up straight, looking at her. “Fiora. When you wake… you’ll know where to find me.”

“You’re—”

Alvis nodded. “I will certainly try. But it will be—”

She gave him an inquisitive look. He shook his head. “You should go,” he said.

She nodded, looking towards the Ontos core. “I… I’ll see you later Alvis.”

He could not claw his way up from the pile of emotions he had found himself under to the emotionless bliss he desired. What function did this unhappiness serve? It did not help him compute. Was it, perhaps, to make him empathize with the humans he would be protecting? But what good would he be in the throes of melancholy, and what good were these emotions now when he had a world to protect?

The thought of going back, of being out there, of being perceived… it hurt. But what else was he doing? If he could not go back to being emotionless, he could only wallow in his depression. He would much rather do that with someone than do so alone.

Still, the gentle breeze stung his skin, the air burning his lungs. The crunch of sand beneath his boots did not feel as soothing. He fell into a sit, curling his arms around his knees as he stared ahead and tried to withhold the water in his eyes.

Her eyes opened and she stared at the wall, uncertain whether she had dreamed after she left Alvis. She went on staring for a moment longer.

She threw off the covers and got dressed.

Fiora hurried to the beach under a pink and orange sky, past the eyes of the scant few who were awake and out. She reached the beach unencumbered by crowds, her eyes naturally falling on the only figure there. She slowed her pace, walking as fast as she could without fear of falling.

“Alvis!”

She didn’t mind that he didn’t respond to her. She wasn’t trying to start a conversation, she was just letting him know she was there.

He wailed at she got close. She sped up, plopping down and throwing her arm around his shoulders as soon as she reached his side. “It’s okay, Alvis,” she said. “I’m here.”

And then he cried.

An inelegant thing, confused sobs being pulled from him as if he had never done so. She knew from the force of his sobs that he wasn’t crying over any one thing: it was everything he had ever endured. She had no words because there were no words, nothing she of little experience could say to soothe the world’s lament.

The sky was clear and blue by the time he stopped crying. She removed her arm as he wiped away his tears, sniffling. “That was very… uncouth of me,” he said, his voice wavering.

Fiora laughed lightly. “You needed that.”

He regarded her with red, puffy eyes. He didn’t look his usual, refined self. And that was okay. She placed a hand on his wet cheek and…

Slowly drew it away, looking down as she did. “Do you… do yo want to go back to our house?” she asked. “I can make breakfast.” She folded her hands in her lap.

Alvis sniffled again and said, “Yes. I would like that.”

She nodded, rising to her feet and offering Alvis a hand, not quite looking at him.

Her palm burned from touching his cheek.

He grabbed her hand, and she had to remind herself to tighten her grip so as to help him up. If he noticed how she wasn’t looking at him, he said nothing. Probably too preoccupied with his own problems to notice Fiora’s.

She lead him from the beach to her house, where they were greeted by a pacing Dunban. He looked up into the light pouring in from the door, to Fiora and Alvis walking through it. He lifted his head, leaving his hand frozen in the position it had been on his chin. It took him a moment to figure out what to say, a moment where the three simply stared at each other.

Then he said, “Welcome back.”

“Are you okay?” Dunban asked.

“No,” Alvis replied, “but I've endured worse.” He offered a smile that should have been brittle, but still, somehow, shone. He looked to Fiora, who gave him a nod.

Dunban and Alvis were seated at the table as Fiora fixed breakfast. Both had offered to help, but she had declined on account of always declining Dunban’s help and Alvis—he shouldn’t have bothered asking.

The two fell into a silence interrupted by the clangs of preparation and fizz of cooking, things that made it hard to hear when the two started talking again. She thought she heard “Shulk”, but she couldn’t make out Alvis’s response outside of “yes”, and she couldn’t stop or else make her eavesdropping apparent. Should she ask him later? Perhaps take a guess at what Dunban had asked and repeat it?

Her palm still burned.