AN: For some reason I felt really compelled to do this now, even though I originally planned to finish 'Paternity' now my exam is over and I'm slightly less brain-dead. Don't worry though, 'Paternity' will be the thing I update after this (or should be). So I should be doing that tomorrow... That's the plan anyway.

But yeah, my rubbish organisational skills aside, let's move on the chapter. This chapter is definitely not as sad as the last one or as Kratos centric since I get the impression that Zelos and Kratos didn't exactly get on fantastically, but this chapter focuses more on the 'lesson'/ moral point. The flashback is the main point.

Now, on to writing the thing!

Disclaimer: I don't own ToS... I'm still waiting for the rights to it to fall into my lap.

The Renegades' faces were impassive, their heads bowed respectfully, having reached the place where the body was to be buried. Zelos' face was more impassive than any of theirs. Still, emotionless, rehearsed. And really, it was. This wasn't Zelos' first funeral. He'd seen many; given blessings to many grieving families and their lost loved ones, and sat through a large number of dull, pompous ceremonies bidding farewell to deceased nobles and their not-so-noble endeavours.

This time, however, the ceremony hadn't preached the ways of Martel to her unwilling Chosen. It had been a short, simple, respectful sermon outside, beneath the trees, away from all traces of the corrupt system, focussing only on the life of the departed man. So this time, he wasn't reminded of how unfair the system or the courts were. He was simply reminded of the inevitability of death, of the unfairness of life.

Not that he felt it was anything new. It had just buried a little under the pomp and splendour of Meltokio. After all, this was just another funeral. The only difference was that he had been a witness to the death that preceded it, that they all had, all nine of the mourners. He stole a glance at Lloyd's pale face, the horror and disbelief that raged beneath the determination in his eyes, that lined the frown on his face, causing the red-head to flinch slightly.

He licked his dry lips, forcing his own resolve to harden. Those emotions were easily picked up to Zelos, but it wasn't all bad. There may only have been nine mourners but all nine were Lloyd's friends, all nine had been there at his father's death and all nine would be there to help him through it. They would pull together as a group.

At least Lloyd wasn't standing in a massive group of people, staring at a rich coffin and feeling more isolated, more alone than he had ever been before despite the vastness of the crowd and the numerous voices asking if he was alright, telling him how sorry they were. They hadn't been sorry. They'd been perfect strangers to him. He had barely known their names.

It had been just him and Sebastian, suffocating in a sea of black that rippled and raged first for his father, then for his mother. Murmured condolences had buzzed around him, irritating his ears, and at first, he'd cowered into Sebastian. The butler had smiled, and that had been the moment. The moment that Zelos had realised he couldn't depend on anybody, couldn't care about a soul, not openly. Because they would only leave him in the end. They would only create their own sad sea, their own storm of mourners to rage around him and cut him off from existence.

It was like she said; he should never have been born. Then she would have lived. Then his father wouldn't have died, Seles would have been Chosen in his place. Everyone would've been happy. If only he hadn't been born.

If he was a good person, Zelos would simply have run, far away from Meltokio, away from the people he would hurt, away from the system, the responsibilities, the riches. If he hadn't been so selfish, such an unworthy, useless Chosen, such a drain on mana and resources. He was a disgrace, a disappointment, he knew this; he was told often enough.

He heard a stifled sniffle by his side, jolting him from his thoughts of self loathing to the ninja who stood next to him with her hand pressed to her mouth. Their eyes met, Sheena squaring her shoulders, swallowing and setting her face into stony stillness, showing him she didn't need his help, showing him she was strong now, that she could stand on her own feet, hold herself together without anyone's help, that she had made it to the end, to the person she was proud to be.

She was every bit the ninja, every bit the heroine of the new world, the master summoner who had made the pacts that had brought the worlds together again, had done some good to the world. His eyes moved on from her, to the casket that held one of the world's previous heroes. He wondered if the man within, their ninth companion, would be remembered in the same way, or if he would simply fade away into non-existence like Zelos was sure he would when he died.

But then, he didn't think the mercenary would mind. Zelos would never admit it, but they appeared to be so similar. Both of them had worked for Cruxis behind Lloyd's back. Both of them had been betrayers, double agents, enemies. Both of them had switched to the right side in the end.

Yet, Zelos had sided with the strongest. Kratos had done what was right. Kratos had always been on Lloyd's side, had always been helping him, hardly openly, hardly noticeably, but he had done it, and believing it was for no credit, believing he would be remembered as a traitor, a villain.

His face flashed into Zelos' memory, the small, contented smile he wore when Lloyd's blade touched the tip of his chin. Yes, Kratos was happy with that. The man no longer cared what happened to him; he had sacrificed himself totally, given all he could and more for their cause, even his soul.

All that was left of him, the evidence of his sacrifice, of his final battle, the one with death, was inside the casket that the Renegades arranged carefully to be lowered into the nurturing earth, into his final bed, his final resting place. All that was left of the once proud, powerful person and the most noble act Zelos had known anyone to commit, trading his own life for the lives of others. An act like that deserved to be honoured, deserved the respect of a weak, selfish person like Zelos.

As the respectful Renegades began to lower the fallen swordsman into the earth, Zelos threw a black rose atop the ancient hero's eternal prison, the proud symbol falling limply onto the darkened surface. It lay there unmoving, as lifeless as the body of the man, almost looking sad, pathetic and insignificant in comparison to the great, forbidding shape of the coffin it rested on.

That was one thing Kratos hadn't been. He hadn't been insignificant, he wouldn't be; Zelos wouldn't allow it. He would never forget the auburn haired man, he knew that at least. Kratos had never been insignificant or pathetic, even in death.

Zelos could see it as clearly as a photograph; the pale, still figure clutched desperately in Yuan's arms, the half-elf sobbing, a series of sharp breaths his only sound while Lloyd moaned denial, shaking the man, screaming for Raine. It was chaos. It was horror. And yet through it all, Kratos looked serene, otherworldly, as if he'd risen above them all, ascended to where he belonged, as if he knew things would be okay, knew the world would be saved, knew it was his death that made it happen.

And maybe, Zelos thought, he did. Maybe the mercenary was able, in those final, precious moments, to see himself clearly, to see what kind of person he was, to see that he truly was a hero.

As he stepped back, a shaky Sheena taking his place, he found a small, wry smile spreading across his lips. He exhaled sharply, just short of laughing at his stupidity. Of course Kratos had. Hadn't the mercenary himself taught him that?

They were going to the Tower. He was leading them to the Tower. It would all be over soon, and Zelos didn't even know who he wanted to win. He sided with the strongest, always had. Logic told him that Cruxis was the best bet; they had the most aces; they had the better deal. If he chose Cruxis, he would be released from his status as Chosen. He would undo some of the damage he'd caused with his mere existence in this world. Seles would be Chosen, he would be out of her life. The wrongs he had done her would be put right.

That was what he wanted. His mind told him this would be the best bet. But his heart was telling him something entirely different. A ghost of laughter rang through his ears; Lloyd's loud guffaw, Genis' snort, Colette's giggle, Raine's polite titter, Regal's deep chuckle. And his own laugh. These were the sounds he'd become accustomed to, the sounds he was becoming a part of.

These people didn't hate him yet. Even Sheena, who was hitting him constantly for hitting on her constantly, even she joked with him, smiled for him, opened up to him. Betraying them would feel like betraying the only family he had ever truly known.

But if he wanted to save what was left of his real family, the one he'd plagued with his presence for too long now, he would have to, wouldn't he?

Would he?

He growled in frustration, leaning back into the tree behind him.

"A difficult dilemma, I presume?"

"Gah!" Zelos spluttered, fumbling in a futile effort to grab his weapon, succeeding only in sitting bolt upright to stare up at the man who had moved to stand in front of him, casting a black shadow over him.

"Kratos!" he exclaimed, recognising the figure. "What do you want?"

"Many things," the lord of Cruxis responded cryptically.

Zelos scowled. He didn't like the enigmatic swordsman at all. There was something harsh yet sorrowful about him. He acted like he had many faces when in reality he gave off a subtle vibe that said he was as honest as they came. And Zelos hated that; it was like he should be able to work the man out but couldn't, and failure wasn't something that Tethe'alla's Chosen enjoyed.

"Why did you come here? Does Cruxis want anything else from me?" he enquired darkly.

"I have received no orders from Cruxis regarding your deployment on any tasks for the organisation," Kratos replied, turning to lean against a tree, arms folded, close by the other red-head, who made no effort to move from his position against another tree trunk. "I merely joined you here because I noticed that you seem to be having some difficulties making a decision."

"You're here to ensure my loyalty, aren't you?" Zelos scoffed harshly. "You don't have to worry; I always side with the strongest, you know that."

"Maybe so," the man answered, knowingly. "But you may wish to re-evaluate which side will prove to be the strongest."

Zelos narrowed his eyes towards Kratos, the false mercenary's eyes almost glassy as he stared ahead into the foliage. "What do you mean? Which side are you even on, Old Timer?"

"I mean nothing that you don't already know," Kratos said, tapping a finger against the hilt of his sword. "But know that as things currently stand, I am your enemy."

Zelos let out a short, barking laugh. "Well you can tell your lovely leader he doesn't have to worry about my loyalty. I'm selfish; I'm not a nice guy. I never pretended to be. Truthfully, I side with the strongest to get what I want and I want to be released from my status as the Chosen. As long as I get what I want, I'm happy to be the bad guy. I don't care that what Cruxis is doing isn't right so long as it's right for me. If that makes me a villain then so be it."

"What makes you believe that doing the opposite to this would make you my enemy?" Kratos responded, a small smirk visible beneath his hair. "You've just told me what you think of Cruxis' ideals, no matter which path you choose to go down. Personally, I believe the outcome will be the same in the end anyway; you will realise which side you are on. People always do. I just hope that realisation does not come too late for you. Though it appears as though you have made your choice."

"Hah! You think you know me?" Zelos retorted, ripping up grass in his fist and scattering it into the breeze, watching the pieces helplessly fly away.

"No," Kratos replied softly. "I do not presume to know you. I don't think I could when it is obvious that you do not know yourself."

"What rock have you been living under all these decades, old man?" Zelos muttered. "You must be going senile to think like that. I go with whatever choice is best for me. I know I'm not a good person – I just don't care."

"Humph," the older swordsman stated, "It is not until the moment of your death that you become aware of the person you truly are, when you can recount your life and know what became of it. Until then, there is time for you to change. Very few people cross the point of no return before this," he finished gravely, with a slow shake of his head.

Zelos shrugged, retorting, "And here's a proverb for you; leopards can't change their spots. So why bother trying?"

"For the same reason you spend so much time worrying what the other Chosen and her group think of you," Kratos answered, a faraway look on his face as he pushed away from the tree. "But I have things that I must do. So I shall take my leave now. I trust that you will find the correct answer soon enough, Chosen."

He had, and he had finally been able to understand what it was that made Lloyd clamour for the man's approval. Standing in that chamber, after helping the mercenary save the group from those impossible traps, witnessing the nod of approval and the small, indulgent smile on older man's face, Zelos had realised what it was about Kratos that he had first hated so much.

He was honest, even if he hid things and avoided telling the whole truth. And he was usually right.

And if he was right about what he said that day, and you really had until the moment of your death to make yours a life to be proud of, then Zelos should be pleased, because it meant there was still a chance. He wasn't a hero yet, he knew that, but he could become a good person.

He had chosen the right side. Now he had to do the right thing.

Sheena rejoined him, sniffling as silent tears slid down her pale cheeks, allowing him to pull her into himself with one warm arm, a wavering yet grateful smile on her face at his sincere expression. She drew herself closer, wiping her eyes with her obsidian sleeve before a low whisper and the sound of two footsteps caught their attention.

Sheena turned, but Zelos continued to stare ahead. Because that was all he could do now. It wasn't any use brooding over his past failings; it was time to take up that chance and make sure his future would be full of success.

Lloyd passed them both, his shoulders shaking with the force of his grief as he took his place in front of the grave, in front of the group.

Zelos lowered his eyes. Kratos might have been gone, but there was another hero who had taught Zelos how to do what was right, and who would continue to teach this to the new world.

And Zelos no longer needed this hero's father there to tell him whether he should back him up.

AN: Okay, I'm not too happy with this chapter. I don't like the ending, but I felt I needed something there to tie it all together...

But anyway, this one was a little different from the first two – nowhere near as sad. The next one – Sheena's chapter – will most likely be a little sadder, but they aren't going to get quite as emotional as the first two until we get to Raine. Kratos' chapter, obviously, should be the worst tear-jerker...

I was actually going to focus on Zelos losing his father in this chapter, but I figured we needed a break from all the grieving of the first two.

But anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this.

Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers; it makes my day to know people are reading/ enjoying my writing. And as always, it would be great if you could tell me what you thought of this chapter.

Thanks for reading!

~ThePurpleRose