"I could crash right here," Noct laments, leaning on the cushions in the hotel lobby, "how long is this going to take?"

"Until the room is ready, have patience." Ignis rolls his eyes at the other man, but honestly is just as ready to be gone to bed. This day was no less physically or emotionally draining than the last, and it will be a welcome relief to sleep off some of his stress.

"How long is that going to take?" He asks, more persistent.

"I don't know, why don't you ask them?" Ignis snaps, raising his eyebrows threateningly.

Noctis shrugs in response, sighing and letting his eyes close, probably sedated from the food they had earlier.

It is another half-hour before they are notified that their room is ready, and by then both Noct and Prompto had dozed off in their seats. Gladio hefts Noct over one shoulder, only getting a slight grumble of defiance. Ignis shakes Prompto awake gently, knowing he's a light sleeper.

"M'up," he swats Ignis' hand away, "I'm up."

Once they are all (not Noct) standing, Ignis leads them to their room. He tries to cover his haste, but it has been very long since he's slept in a bed that doesn't have springs poking out, isn't moth-eaten or dirty. Much of his time he thinks has been spent on hard, cold stone. Honestly, Ignis isn't sure why he let them all camp for their first night. Maybe because it was as close he could get to routine, and anything else may have been too much to handle, too soon.

As soon as Ignis shuts the door behind them, Gladio dumps Noct on the closest bed and beelines for the bathroom. Ignis hears the shower turn on not long after. Noctis hasn't moved, and he can hear soft snores coming from him. Huffing slightly, Ignis pulls off Noct's shoes and places him under the covers gently. He's forgotten what it feels like to take care of someone else, and it fills him with an emotion somewhere between nostalgia and sadness. Turning, he sees Prompto on his phone, idly scrolling through it. His eyebrows are creased, and his expression is hard. Ignis thinks he might wear it a lot in the wasteland their world has become, as it doesn't quite suit the care-free, younger version of his friend.

Prompto looks up and catches Ignis staring, "what? Got something on my face?"

Ignis tries to make a recovery, "thankfully, no," he says, alluding to his future facial hair.

He understands, rolling his eyes dramatically, "it is not that bad. You didn't even see it."

Ignis thinks back to his dream, and almost disagrees, but catches himself, instead letting silence stretch out. That's been happening too often lately.

"What's up?"

"Hmm?"

"You look pensive," Prompto puts down his phone, "gil for your thoughts?"

'It's nothing, just thinking, I suppose."

"Oh?" Prompto waits, urging him wordlessly to go on.

Fuck it, Ignis thinks. Venting may be able to help him sort his thoughts.

"This isn't what I thought it would be," he starts, surprising himself with his outwardness, "it isn't like I had expected everything to be how it was, we can't just erase ten years of our lives. It's just... been so long, after all." He wants to say more, but words don't come to him. Prompto continues for him.

"I think I know what you mean. Like, for Noct this is how it always was. He said it himself, he felt like he was in and out of the crystal, no big. But I feel like I barely know him now, you know? I've forgotten so many things about him, favourite memory, colour, I don't know. Stupid shit, right? But aside from that, he doesn't know me anymore either. I've changed, we all have. And I'm speaking for myself here, but I've lost touch with everyone, you guys included. And it fucking sucks, because if I didn't feel isolated before... it's almost worse when you're alone with others, you know?"

Ignis is a bit struck, "I wasn't aware you were able to articulate so well." He says this, knowing full well how shut-off and cagey Prompto can be when confronted about things like personal feelings. Ignis has had ten years of trying to deal with it.

"But am I right?"

"You are, but at least we are all feeling this together."

Gladio emerges, dressed in his sleep wear already. Odd for him, usually he'll show off in a towel first. "You two having a little heart-to-heart?"

Ignis laughs when Prompto flips him the finger, and thinks that he really is right. He just doesn't know the three of them like he use to.

"I'm afraid I must steal the bathroom next," Ignis says, making Prompto pout in response, "I'll be only a minute, you can survive that long, I'm sure."

"Sure I will," Prompto calls sarcastically as Ignis closes the bathroom door. Gods damn Gladio, it's so steamy he can't see himself in the mirror. Grumbling, he wipes the fog away, pulling out his toothbrush.

He isn't sure he can look at himself right now, but brings his eyes up anyway. He hasn't ever seen himself with his scars and milky eyes, but it put an image in his head that, at the nicest, could be described as simply grotesque. Between that, the feeling of the large burn marks and the constant pain, he's grown to detest the face he doesn't know. Looking in the mirror now, he almost expects to see that same image, and is relieved when he doesn't. Maybe he's overthinking this. Nevertheless, Ignis brushes his teeth as quickly as he can.

When he emerges, he sees Gladio sitting on the bed beside Noct, legs crossed and book open, sparing Ignis only a glance before looking back down. The King himself looks to have rolled himself in a cocoon with most of the blankets.

"Where's Prompto?" Ignis asks, seeing no sign of him.

"Went on a walk, he said. Probably needed to clear his head," Gladio shrugs, but there's a tautness to his shoulders that suggests he isn't as relaxed as he is trying to seem, "I'm waiting up for him."

"Go to sleep, Gladio. You look exhausted. I can stay up, if you're worried."

"You look dead on your feet."

"So then let's both go to bed, and not stay awake for a man very capable of handling himself. We aren't his parents."

Gladio lets air out his nose noisily, "yeah, well, you didn't have the joys of bunking with him for a month. Trust me when I say it's better if I wait on him."

This piques Ignis' curiosity, but he doesn't pry, "very well, but I am going to bed." He looks ruefully over at Noct, already asleep but now wrapped in all the blankets.

"You do that," Gladio says, voice carefully guarded.

Pulling (with much difficulty) the sheets from Noctis' grasp, he climbs in beside him and tries to get some sleep, but Gladio's words keep knocking around in his head, worrying him about Prompto. It almost feels like too long before the door opens again with a murmured creak.

"Hey," Prompto says, sounding startled, "you're still awake."

"Nice walk?" Gladio asks, a little too nonchalantly.

"You didn't have to wait up for me, but thanks."

Ignis, eyes close to give the appearance of being asleep, hears Gladio shut his book and stand up from the bed.

A hushed 'hey!' comes from Prompto when Gladio approaches.

"Are you kidding me?" Gladio growls, clearly making an effort to keep his voice low.

"Was sniffing me necessary?"

"That's what you spent the fifty gil on, isn't it. Damn it, Prompto-"

"Dude, chill," Prompto mutters, trying to calm him, but too annoyed to put any real effort into it.

"Drinking too? Or just smoking?"

"You're the sniffer dog, do I smell like booze to you? Give me a fucking break, man."

Gladio takes a few deep breaths, and Ignis can practically see him, face in hands, red from trying not to blow up and wake everyone else, "just... go to bed, Prompto."

"You seriously think I ditched for a bar, really," Prompto sneers, hurt.

"You ditched for a smoke, am I really that far off?"

"And what do you care? I'm not your problem."

"I have to share a bed with the smell," Gladio retorts. Ignis cringes as he stops to regret his words, "no, Prom, shit, I didn't mean it like-"

"Yeah, okay. I get it, I know when I'm not wanted," Prompto lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

Gladio doesn't even try to stop him as he leaves, staying where he stands.

"Fuck," he says, so quietly Ignis nearly misses it.

It's a long while before Ignis drifts off.

He recognizes this field. Half the flowers are bereft of life now, etheral blue now a dark, dead, sickly brown.

Noctis is in front of him. He is so much older, square jaw now covered in messy stubble. He is wearing his old attire, it makes him look awkward. As if it is no longer grand enough for him. He might better suit his father's robes.

"Ignis," Noct says, voice warped, like he's underwater, "what...?"

"Go. Go. Go."

The air talks to him. The dream is closing in on Ignis, the air around him suffocating. He screams as Noctis fades, and Ignis grasps air when he reaches out. Just like that, the ceiling collapses around Ignis with a loud bang.

He wakes with a start, sitting up so quickly his head spins.

"Oh, sorry," Prompto says, scratching the back of his head, "forgot how heavy that door is, heh."

"No harm done," Ignis replies too quickly, heart beating rapidly. Noctis and Gladio are still asleep beside him, "were you out all night?"

"O-oh, no. Just enjoying the sunrise," Prompto smiles brightly, but he's worrying his bracelet, the one on his right wrist. Ignis doesn't need that clue to know he's lying.

But he can't let Prompto know he (however unwillingly) violated his private conversation, so he tries skirting around it to get to an answer, "ah," he says, "I didn't hear you come in last night."

"You were asleep," he replies, eyeing him, "right?"

Shit, "yes, of course. I just assumed I would wake."

"I was quiet," Prompto now moves avoidently to put on some coffee, "want some?"

"Yes, thank you," damn it. He's lost his chance now. Ignis stands, looking at the clock. Only three. He's probably gotten four hours of sleep, at the most.

"Urgh," Noctis groans, shifting in his blanket fortress, "wha' time is it?"

"Quite early," Ignis responds. Figures that this whole time traveling business would mess up their sleep schedules, "you may sleep longer, if you wish. However it may be better to get up now, and try to maintain some sort of routine."

"I'm hungry anyway," he sits up, and Ignis has to hide a smile at the sight of Noctis with unimaginably atrocious bed head. One of many things he's either forgotten or thought he'd never see again, "what's for breakfast, Specs?"

"I'll let you decide."

"Prompto?" Noct asks.

"Eh, whatever," he says, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

"How about... eggs?" Noctis suggests, "haven't had those in a while."

Ignis huffs, Prompto snorts in amusement.

"What? What did I say?"

"There were three things to eat once all the animals died," Ignis laughs, at Noct's offended expression, "mushrooms, fish and abandoned bird eggs."

"What about the birds?"

"They stayed high enough so that we couldn't reach them. The first few years it was mainly eggs."

Prompto shudders, "I was put on duty to collect them the third year, it was awful."

"So... not eggs then?" Noct asks.

The morning from then on is relatively calm. They talk about what they may do today, if they want to see anyone, an so on. When Gladio wakes up, he doesn't so much glance in Prompto's direction before closing himself in the bathroom.

Raising his eyebrows, Noctis says "what's that about?" Ignis shakes his head while Prompto serves the coffee. Noct takes a sip and turns his nose up, "it's... very strong."

Prompto shrugs, evidently a mile away. Ignis takes a sip, tasting the same thing, "no matter, it's still drinkable. In any case, it ought to wake us up."

There's tension brewing now, between Ignis' rising heart rate, Noct's suspicion, Gladio's anger and Prompto's constant need to tap his foot, the atmosphere in the room leaves a lot to be desired for. Things never can stay peaceful for long, can they?

"I think I'll go out to find some potions," Ignis says, if only to get out of the room.

Noct frowns, "will we be needing any?"

"I expect the pay for our room to be steep, so taking up a hunt or two would not be ill advised."

"I'll come with," Prompto offers.

Ignis nods, and the two of them start to dress in their day-to-day wear. He'd been hoping to free himself of the others, if only for a moment. It's been a while since he's spent so much time, especially in close quarters, with other people. He's dreadfully out of practice, and it's wearing on his nerves. Then again, Prompto appears to have the same issue, and isn't in a chatty mood. Maybe he'll be good company.

"All set?" Ignis checks.

"Uh, wait. Noct, do you have a sweater or something?"

Noct looks surprised, "yeah, here," he pulls his black hoodie out of the Armiger, "things have really changed, eh?"

Ignis doesn't think he's referring completely to fashion choice. In any case, no one responds. Prompto pulls the oversized hoodie over his head, nodding to Ignis to say he's ready now.

"Any hunt in mind?" Ignis inquires, locking the door behind him.

"Not really." He puts his hands in his pocket and looks at the ground as they start walking.

"I will go collect the curatives, if you wouldn't mind collecting a hunt, so you may want to think on it."

"'K."

Ignis sighs, exasperated, "I'll see you in a few minutes, then, yes?"

"Yup."

They part, and Ignis finds the vendor he wants. It's the same man who, even ten years from now, still sells life-saving goods. Potions may now be rendered useless in the absence of the Crystal's magic, but bandages and the like are just as valuable. In the future, both Prompto and Ignis had brought this man supplies, and know him to be an honest, kind person.

"What'll you have?" He leans forward.

"Five potions and an elixir, please," he says, counting their funds.

"You got it, that all?"

"Yes, thank you," Ignis grabs the bag of goods and banishes them to the Armiger in a sparky flash of blue, passing the wide-eyed man his gil.

"Have... have a nice day, yeah?"

"You as well," he smiles, then sets off to find Prompto. He finds him standing over a table, where the waiter has handed him several flyers, and he seems to be mulling them over, "decide on any?"

"Oh!" He jumps, "yeah, thought we might pick up a few."

"That may be wise," Ignis remembers his count of the sum of their funds, "let's see what we have."

One poster, the one on the bottom, showcases several imps, on top of that, flan. The one Prompto is seeming to favour is a high level psychomancer. The rewards for them are all relatively high.

"These seem alright. We'll have to do them tonight, so it's a bit of a wait. We'll head back to the room in the meanwhile. From there we'll make a plan."

"Sounds good," Prompto scoops up the fliers, responding in the most minimalistic way he can.

"It's strange being back here, isn't it?"

"Sure is."

"People are here who we know, and they've never met us yet. People are here who have died, but walk the streets. The streets themselves have changed, there are new people. Here it is filled with freedom, free of fear."

"Poetic," Prompto remarks, "I've said it before, Iggy, and I'll say it again. You ever think you think too much?"

"Far too much, Prompto."

"Yeah, me too."

They walk back quietly after that, but it's companionable this time. They stop at the door while Ignis fishes for his keys.

"I'll be back," Prompto says suddenly, "don't wait up."

'And where are you going? I'm about to make some breakfast."

"To think," he winks and walks away. Ignis rolls his eyes. He knows avoidance when he sees it.

Noctis opens the door, "I heard voices," he explains, "where'd Prompto go?"

"He'll be back shortly, I assume. Have you decided on what you'd like to eat?" He slips inside, glancing around the room. Gladio is in on the bed, arm placed across his eyes and turned advertently away from the door.

"Not really hungry," he shrugs, glancing to where Gladio is splayed, "we should go walk around."

"Yes, and we'll do some hunts tonight, so let's not tire ourselves."

"C'mon, Gladio," Noct calls.

The big man sighs and sits up. He looks pissed, like Ignis imagined he looked like on the train. Like he knows he looked like when news came that Niflheim's peace treaty was a trick.

"Why not?"

"Is Prompto coming?" Noctis crouches down, trying to find his shoes under the bed.

"He told me not to wait up, so I'd think not."

"Figures," Gladio sneers.

"What's your issue?" Noct snaps, turning around.

Gladio stops, glaring at the wall, "forget it."

"How about... no?"

"Drop it, will ya? You can't fix everything, Highness."

Noctis glowers, "you've been ill-tempered since we left, so what's your problem?" Ignis stands to the side, not confident enough to butt in on the conversation if this is something the two of them need to work out.

"I don't have a problem."

"Bullshit, and you know it. We can work this out, you don't have to be a dick about it."

"And why the hell should I tell you," Gladio gets right in Noct's face for this jab, sneering in a strong attempt to tell him to back off.

"Because you know me. And you've been moody since this morning."

"I've been 'moody' for a lot longer than that. And Prompto's been depressed and Ignis' been completely withdrawn for ten years. Things changed when you left us, what about that do you not get? You don't know us and we sure as hell don't know you anymore."

Noct's face slides to something blank, but it's strained. He opens and closes his mouth, wanting to say something bus most likely not wanting to have it turn back on him. He looks at Ignis for help, but he can only shake his head. Gladio isn't wrong, he just words things a little... harsher than they needed to be.

"Okay," he ends up saying, softly. No one moves.

"Gladio, maybe-" a look from his friend makes Ignis stop. He doesn't want to aggravate things. Maybe he's become more withdrawn than he thinks, not wanting conflict and yearning for nothing more right now than to hole up in his Lestallum closet of a room and work on reports.

Except he isn't in Lestallum anymore, not the one he's come to know, anyway. Suddenly, as if it wasn't before, everything is too much. Ignis can see. And Noctis is back. And he doesn't know these people anymore and he doesn't know himself because he isn't himself, not really. He isn't the twenty-two year old Advisor to the King who had everything, just like Noctis isn't the twenty year old prince anymore, but it's what they're both trying to be right now. Gladio and Prompto are still in their thirties and the arguments they're having are the same ones they've always been having, the only difference is the setting, the one they won't even try to adapt to. And Noct an Ignis are trying too hard to change, and that's where the issue is.

They just aren't the people they started this journey as, and that's why this feels so wrong.

"I see my error," Ignis says, after a brief pause.

This gets Gladio's attention, "yeah?"

"Yes, I... I only wish for this to be more of the 'calm before the storm', rather than a constant argument."

Noctis looks back and forth between them, brows furrowed, "I missed something."

Gladio ignores him, "me too," he nods, "sorry for the outburst."

"No matter, it's done. I think Noct needs the apology more than I."

Gladio rolls his eyes but does as asked, "right. Sorry, princess."

Noct shakes his head, "you? Apologising to me? Things really have changed."

The big guy takes this in good humour, smiling and standing to slap Noct on the shoulder, "let's go out then, yeah? I saw this great food place on the corner-"

Ignis sighs, "so much for cooking."

"Take a break, Iggy. This is supposed to be relaxing, like you said."

"Cooking is relaxing," he insists, "but I suppose this wouldn't be the worst thing."

"Let's get going then," Noctis says, pushing them forward, "I think I saw this weapon shop, we might want to stock up."

Ignis summons his dagger at this thought, getting a look at it. In ten years, this blade will be shards of broken rust, lost somewhere in the swamps of the Vesperpool. His new dagger is blunt, but not better than the one he has in his hands now.

"What's the matter with the ones we have?"

"Yeah," Gladio doesn't summon his great sword, but Ignis imagines it's much the same as his own, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it."

"There are better ones," Noct urges, "one's we are going to need."

"I don't think we have the funds," Ignis again remembers his count from when he bought potions.

'I could go pick up a hunt," Gladio shrugs.

"What? By yourself?" Noctis raises his eyebrows.

"No daytime beast can scare me, princess."

"It isn't safe." Noctis tries, clearly concerned.

"It's as safe as it gets."

Noct opens his mouth again to retaliate, but Ignis interrupts, "let him go, we'll need the money. I'm sure he can handle himself, Noctis."

Gladio nods, but Noct still looks unsure, "alright," he says, "after breakfast."

"Done."

They all walk out together, side by side, to the food place Gladio said he saw. Ignis remembers it, if only a little, and the man there greets them heartily. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to the sight of all the people laughing and enjoying themselves, the sight of the sun or the genuine tone of joy around him. They three of them end up ordering some dish that smells like oranges and cream, it's quite good. Ignis writes it down for later. While they eat, Gladio gets a hunt from the proprietor, a few Voreteeth that have been causing some trouble for hikers down the way.

"Five thousand gil is worth about half a good weapon," Noct complains, "it isn't worth it."

"Five thousand gil is quite a bit anyway," Ignis says, "enough to cover our hotel stay, at the least."

"I guess. Did you and Prompto pick up some hunts?"

"We did," he passes Noct the flyers.

"Oh damn," he remarks, "all daemons? These are pretty... interesting choices."

Gladio takes a look, "these are our regulars in the future. Pretty common, I'm not surprised you picked these."

"Gross, I hate flan."

"Ah, which makes it all the more satisfying to annihilate in the end, hm?" Ignis finishes, "you should leave now, Gladio. It will give you more time to rest before tonight."

"If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you wanted me gone Iggy," he stands nonetheless, "I'll see you guys in a few."

"C'ya," Noct waves dismissively, small frown gracing his face.

"Be safe, please."

"Yeah, yeah. You too." Gladio stalks off, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The 'you too' wasn't especially necessary, it's just a habit from each time they would say goodbye to each other. Luck should never be in short supply.

As soon as Gladio is out of view, Noctis leans forward, "we need to talk."

"Certainly," acquiesces Ignis, familiar dread pinching his stomach, "go on."

"I had a dream last night. Well, not so much a dream. You were in it."

Ignis' eyebrows crease, "I believe I know what you mean, I had one as well, and you were there. But you were older."

"So were you, I thought you couldn't see me. But Bahamut was in mine, was he in yours too?"

"Not in person, but I believe I heard his voice." Ignis leans in with Noct, not too surprised in sharing dreams if only at the thought alone that if his friend could live in a rock for ten years, strange dreams were not so strange, "like a thousand swords being dragged across stone."

"Dramatic, but yeah, that's him," Noctis places his face in his hands, "he wants me to go back."

"That isn't possible, this Bahamut has not yet seen you go back in time."

"He's a god, Iggy. He doesn't necessarily exist in one period of time all at once. He just kinda... is, you know? I think he's been following me, making sure I don't fuck this up."

"Astrals. Does he think you would abandon you calling?" He pulls Noct's hands away from his face, if only to judge the expression on it. He doesn't let go of his hands when they reach the table.

"Yeah. He wanted to keep me in the crystal longer, you know. He didn't think ten years was enough, that I was ready. Maybe he was right, but I couldn't stay any longer. I have what I need to dispel the darkness and kill Ardyn, I need nothing more. But Bahamut is watching to make sure I don't bounce."

"Will he do anything about it?"

"I... I don't know. If we're lucky, it'll just stay dreams."

Ignis squeezes Noct's hands, "and if we're not...?"

A pause, "back to the crystal, I suppose. Then probably another ten years." Noct is shaking now, ever so slightly. The fear in his voice is almost tangible, like he's twenty years younger and curled up beside Ignis, scared out of his wits from a nightmare. This memory is strong enough to stop whatever answer Ignis would have formed, and leave him wondering why they couldn't have traveled back farther, when they could've pretended that the worst of their problems really were just nightmares.

"I see," is all he manages.

"The longer we stay here, the more at risk we are."

"Right."

"We can't stay here long, Ignis."

"I understand. When should we..." his throat is dry, and he doesn't want his voice to crack under the stress of keeping it steady, so he leaves the question open ended. More than anything, he does not want to leave just yet. No, not yet.

"I'm not sure. The dreams aren't so bad now that its imminent, but we need to be careful."

"Agreed. If anything, I did finally get you see you all ten years older," Ignis keeps his voice light, trying to dispel the darkened mood.

"All?"

"I saw Gladio and Prompto, when we camped. It was... disturbing."

"I bet, I know how it feels to see all your friends age that much after only remembering them at twenty," Noct deadpans.

"They look gods awful, I must say," he jokes back.

"What, and you're any better?"

"Pah, I remained presentable, at the very least."

"Prompto's face?"

"And Gladio's outfit. Honestly."

It's almost a relief to have the laughter. This may be the first time in his life that Ignis is avoiding an issue with an obvious solution, but if that means his friend and brother lives to breathe another day, then so be it. If it means Gladio doesn't have the constant worry of having his family dying, if only for a few precious moments, so be it. If Prompto can, for once, find some semblance of peace and happiness, so be it. If, for one more day, Ignis can bask in the order and unity of this world and live to see it too.

So be it.