A/N: Minor rewrite of the oneshot "Reunion" as requested by an Anonymous user on Tumblr :)

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"Is... is that m-my vest?"

"Huh?" At first, Branch was not sure what his brother was talking about. Floyd, for one, was not wearing a vest, or any article of clothing on his top. And what Branch had on was all his own. It's not his fault, Branch thought. Whatever was happening to him could be making his mind more deluded, having him say things that weren't all there. But Branch came to realize in a jolt of remembrance that it wasn't Floyd not making sense. He was making perfect sense, in a way. Because when Branch took into consideration his brother's line of sight, he had to look down at his leaf green vest and recall just why he had chosen such an outfit for his daily casualwear. It had made great camouflage in his gray days, for when he had to be extra vigilant of Bergens. But, even before he had been able to fully encompass the dangers that the Bergens once posed, there had been another reason he'd worn vests of this design. It had been Floyd's parting gift to Branch, right before he walked out of his life. He'd slipped out of it, placing it upon Branch's small shoulders and telling him to keep it as a reminder. Back then, he'd thought it meant only as a reminder of Floyd himself. But as Branch grew up, he saw that he'd also meant it as a reminder of better, happier days as well. Because that was one of the vests that Floyd often had worn when the band was off-duty from the limelight, and could simply hang out and goof off among each other as young boys should.

Fingering the leaves, Branch nodded his head. "Um... yeah, actually," he mumbled. "It, um... is."

"I can't believe you kept it."

"Well, yeah," Branch said. "It's the only thing I had left of you. Before you left."

"Oh..." Floyd said, quietly, looking pensive. "Right... I, uh. I guess that makes sense," he said rather sheepishly.

Branch just shrugged awkwardly in a gesture of agreement. It was kind of a "duh" moment for him and he couldn't help feeling some anger. But that anger quickly went away when just as suddenly, the glassiness in Floyd's eyes seemed to shift into something else, and it took Branch a second to realize that it was tears that had pooled in them. "Branch," he whimpered, his bottom lip trembling and his voice shaky, "I'm so, so sorry..." A sob finally escaped him, and the Troll covered his face in shame, letting loose the tears.

Branch was not one to cry, at least, not in front of others when he could help it. It was a slip when Poppy had found him and his tear-stained face within his Grandmother's old pod, just the previous day. But Branch was starting to feel himself waver, a hurt overtaking him at hearing how utterly broken - how completely defeated - his brother was, and he could feel a dampness overtake his own eyes.

"I'm an awful brother," Floyd lamented with a sniffle. "I left you... I left Grandma... I-I really thought you guys would be fine, but... and n-now you're in this mess because of me... and w-we're not gonna..." He swallowed the great lump that had formed in his throat, but was too choked up to finish.

But Branch could, and he didn't like where it'd been going.

We're not gonna make it.

It seemed that Floyd had lost all hope. Despite knowing that John Dory had been making his best efforts along with the rallied brothers, time was just not on their side. Luck was not favoring their mission. Fortune was not smiling upon them. It almost felt like the more they strived for victory the harder the odds became. But Branch did not want to give up... not on them, at least. If this was to be the very last time they would be with each other, he didn't want it to be so solemn. Bittersweet was okay, but not completely devoid of happiness.

So the blue Troll took a deep breath, and did the only thing he could do when simple words were not enough. He sang.

Floyd raised his head slightly when he did, timidly peeking at Branch from behind his bangs. There was a mystified expression on his face that Branch couldn't pinpoint, until he realized that the reason for it was because Floyd had not heard him sing with his full voice - Only the small, childish one that he'd had when he was merely starting to get his groove on the stage with the rest of the band. Branch continued to sing to him, his voice getting richer and the notes flowing smoothly, its beautiful sound bouncing off the walls of the crystal dome and amplifying it.

Branch had knelt down when he got to the second verse, scooting closer to Floyd's side and extending his hand as a means to offer his friendship. Floyd did not hesitate in reaching out to grasp it - even though his motion was slowed due to the taxing effects he was undergoing - and Branch gave it a small squeeze, unnerved with the fact that his brother's hand felt slightly limp within his and not so warm with lifeblood as it should be.

Branch couldn't be sure of it at first, but he soon heard Floyd's gentle voice harmonize along. The Troll echoed back a couple of words to start with, but with the following verse was able to muster enough energy to sing the chorus.

With the fadeout of the melody, silence fell among the brothers. Then...

"Floyd, I... I can't say life was easy after you guys left," Branch admitted in a hushed voice, "because it wasn't. Not all of it, at least. Grandma died a few years after you left..."

Floyd looked at him in astonishment, shaking his head in disbelief. But Branch nodded. "Yes," he sighed. "She was taken away... by a Bergen... and I never saw her again after that..."

More tears slipped down Floyd's cheeks.

"I lost my colors after that. I was gray for over twenty years, hiding from the Bergens, camoflauging..." He touched his vest as he spoke those words. "I never sang, I never danced," Branch continued. "I never had any fun... I guess that's kind of why I don't look as blue as I used to." He regarded his skin and hair, which were more dull than it was when he was a baby. "But my girlfriend, Poppy, helped me see that I still had happiness inside me even with the bad things that happened. And, well..." He put a hand on Floyd's. "I really don't know what's gonna happen now, but... I, um... I just want you to know that I do forgive you. All of you," he concluded, in reference to their other brothers as well.

A part of Branch felt like a hypocrite in making it so easy for Floyd when it came to making up. He'd given John Dory, Spruce, and Clay a hard time, letting them have an earful at first and not being open to their attempts at affection. But he had to remind himself that it was all for the sake of time. It was quite possible that Floyd could keel over any second, lose the sparkle of life in his eyes and be gone forever. Things had been on bad terms for too long. If Floyd was meant to pass on, then he could at the very least go in peace, knowing that Branch, the brother he was closest to and had wronged the most, was back on good terms again.

Floyd was glad to hear this. He let out a sigh of relief, and leaned into Branch's shoulder, both as a means to support his exhausted self and to seek condolence. And it was that action that made Branch feel as though their roles had been reversed for once. There was plenty a time as kids when Floyd had been there for Branch to comfort him if he'd gotten a scraped knee, or was fearful of doing a performance, or was sad about having dropped his ice cream cone on the ground. This time, though Branch was the youngest brother of BroZone, he felt like he was the older one.

Next to him, Floyd had calmed down considerably, and was able to relax against Branch comfortably, closing his eyes and easing the tension he had worked up while fussing over the past. And Branch, who normally hadn't been quick to forgive and forget, did as his song had said and let it go.

There was only so much he could do, trapped in a diamond and wondering what fate could possibly await him and Floyd, but it felt good that one of those things was a solid reunion.