He'd been sure, when he'd turned and walked away from the rest of the Returners, that someone would try to stop him. Out of a well intentioned want to comfort, or a fear he'd do something foolish if left to his own devices. None of them did. Even those closest to him kept a respectful distance and left him to his grief. Celes was the first person to approach him in hours.

With the world as it was, quiet and broken and dying, there was little noise to disguise it. The sound of her boots on the gravel registered distantly, and he looked up. Fixed her with an unsteady gaze, red-rimmed and tired. He'd cried and cursed himself empty for a time. Wrung himself as dry as the dust under his own boots until there was little left but a deep, gnawing ache. He couldn't seem to summon the energy or the pride to care to hide it. The stone wall he was sitting on had once served as the limits of the town. There were few people who would bother coming all the way out here for him, and any one of them had already seen him at his lowest.

He wasn't sure what she was waiting for him to do. He wasn't sure if he was surprised to find that it was her, either. It felt like a long time before he found his voice again. When he did, it was rough and uncertain.

"Celes?"