Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Dreams Come True ❯ Reminiscence ( Chapter 11 )

Tidus closed his eyes against the warmth of the noonday sun and let the salty breeze ruffle his hair. He lay stretched out on the uppermost deck of the S.S. Winno; Rikku, Wakka, and Yuna all lay near him. Such relaxation was rare to him even in Zanarkand...and this moment in time, this snapshot memory, would have to be filed away in his mind's eye and especially cherished. Rikku was perhaps an arm's length away, idly pointing at some cloud-shape to show to Wakka, who lay close beside her. And Yuna he could reach with just a movement of the hand - she did not touch him, but she was close enough to touch without effort. That was enough. She looked as if she were napping, though she wasn't asleep; she didn't watch the sky like her companions but instead let her face turn towards Tidus', her eyes shut, dark blonde hair falling over her face. Tidus wanted to touch her then, but knew it were better if he didn't disturb her, in case she was indeed sleeping. Besides -- he *always* wanted to touch her. And it wasn't fair to her that she might lose sleep for his own strange need to constantly have his hands on her.

Jecht was below deck, sleeping. That much he knew. It had always been a habit of Jecht's to assume unconsciousness for somewhere around twelve hours preceding a game. Lulu was likely at the rear of the ship, as she always tended to be, watching the sea. Kimahri was undoubtedly somewhere else on the main outer deck -- he hated confined spaces, buildings included. Understandable, for a Ronso.

The sun made all four of them sleepy, sluggish. At first, they'd made a game out of pointing out shapes in the clouds and bickering playfully over what they looked like, but that had simmered down to the occasional revelation that this cloud looked like a Mafdet, or that cloud looked like an upside-down legless, wingless Chocobo. Most of their time was now spent in contented silence. It would still be awhile before they reached Luca, and they didn't see any sense in wasting these perfectly good moments doing something productive. There was time aplenty now for laziness, and they deserved this time very much.

"'Ey." Wakka gestured idly to the sky to the right of him. "Looks like Seymour's hair, ya?"

Tidus glanced sleepily up at whatever Wakka was pointing at, then shook his head. "I don't know."

"It looks more like one of Rikku's eight-legged machina," Yuna murmured, a drowsy grin curling her lips upward. She didn't open her eyes.

"Hey, how do you know? You're half-asleep."

"I saw it earlier. Thought it looked like Seymour's hair at first too, but then I changed my mind."

"Mmn."

And that was the extent of the conversation. Rikku dozed off, Wakka returned to staring off at the clouds, and Yuna returned to her half-nap. Tidus was again left to his thoughts but found it not worth the effort to keep up a solid train of consciousness, and so stretched out on his side and closed his eyes.

Jecht awoke slowly, from an uneasy and unrestful sleep. He also woke up chilly.

As his mind shook off its sleepiness, he realized that there was no reason he should be cold - the weather had hinted that the day would be sweltering when he'd retired to the lower deck for rest.

He became aware of the slightest feeling; something that made his eyes snap open immediately. The smallest, just barely tangible feeling, on the hairs at the back of his neck...a single finger stroking them, a feeling so familiar he hadn't taken much notice of it at first.

Jecht remembered.

In his old life, in Zanarkand...

Centuries, eons, lifetimes ago...

Amia.

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Amia laughed, pretending to be scandalized. "Jecht, you *didn't!*"

"I did. Damn...I swear, Mia, you haven't met a true bastard 'til you've met a blitzball sponsor. They're stupid; they think they own you just 'cause they pay for your team's uniforms or whatever."

Her laugh had become a chuckle, and she grinned at me playfully as her arm slipped over my waist. "Yes, I guess sponsors are difficult...but what's the rule with blitzball coaches, hmm? I'm *married* to one of *those.*"

"Oh, *thanks.*" I replied dryly, grinning myself. It was a good morning -- I was usually too tired from blitz practice to wake up early. But I'd made the practice yesterday ridiculously easy and short; in part because I had to have a little 'talk' with one of the Abes' sponsors about how dictatorial they were trying to be, and in part because Mia had been making me feel kinda guilty about being so wrapped up in blitz. So I surprised her with an early arrival home, ordered some dinner delivered and some movies on sphere and after that was all finished, took her to bed. All that put her in an incredibly good mood. And when she was happy like this, I swear to god -- all was right with the world.

"Well," I began, moving over her and biting her bare shoulder lightly. "Blitzball coaches are bastards by nature too, you know." At that I tickled her mercilessly, not stopping when she begged and squirmed for it, and laughing when she tried to pry my strong hands away with her own delicate ones. Finally I did stop; she tried to give me a disapproving glare, but she was still laughing too much to accomplish it. "Ruthless sons-a'-bitches, don't you think?" I grinned at her.

"Indeed," Mia agreed, eyes twinkling with humor. She linked her fingers at the back of my neck. "Hard to persuade,"

I laughed. "Only when -- hey...that feels pretty good..."

"What, this?" She stroked the hair at the back of my neck curiously, and again, it was hypnotizing.

"Yeah. Makes me wanna curl up n' go to sleep, heh..."

"You'd better not...!" Amia laughed, pulling me down to her. "I'm not finished with you yet."

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Jecht was silent for a long moment, unmoving. He pondered over what had happened to cause this obvious pattern...and what the hell they thought they were doing with the dead.

She wouldn't know. He had been listless when he first returned - so would she.

It had been countless years since he'd been able to touch her. And now that he could, he was afraid to. Afraid as well that he might turn around and find it nothing but a figment of his brooding imagination. That had happened before: he would think that he felt her brush against him or move close to him in his sleep, and wake, finding no one. It happened so often that he almost wished to cease dreaming of her altogether. It made him lonely.

"Hey..." he muttered softly; it was a sort of morning ritual, and at his greeting she always...

...Planted an ever-light kiss on his skin, in this case the back of his neck, soft as silk and...

Cold as ice.

It made Jecht's hair stand up on end, as much from the unexpected chill of it as from apprehension.

As if he could move no faster, Jecht slowly turned over to face her.

It had been Amia, he'd known it instantly. But...

Even when he turned to her, she lay still, as if she had not seen him. She was dressed as she always dressed before he left; conservatively, compared to the styles of Zanarkand at that time, but horrifyingly revealing to the Spira sense of dress. Dark denim capris; she'd never stop wearing those, no matter if it were snowing to beat Gagazet outside; and a beige tank top, suited for the summer or fall months. Yes -- remembering, Jecht realized that it must have been early fall when she'd finally passed, and he remembered watching her, remembered that she had been wearing that same outfit. He'd watched her incessantly after he left, unable to do anything but watch her wither like he watched some sphere movie. Jecht had watched her die, as well. That was the only time he could ever remember crying.

Yu Yevon had laughed.

Jecht had hated him more than anything. Than everything else he hated combined. Still did.

Amia lay still, blue eyes half-mast, as if relaxing. She didn't seem to notice her counterpart, thought Jecht knew why. He gently passed a hand over her arm, watching her eyes open all the way. Where his hand had passed, her arm flickered in the pinkish-translucent glow of a pyrefly. It happened that way when one passed between 'life and death,' so to speak.

She looked up at him then, eyes as innocent as a child's, though her expression was blank. It didn't worry Jecht - in fact, it was reassuring. Amia was often expressionless in situations where she didn't know what to do.

It was a long time before Amia moved, and when she did, it was to rest her palm lightly against Jecht's cheek.

"Hey," she answered quietly, the Mia-smile Jecht knew so well growing on her lips.

Jecht silently sat up and pulled her with him, embracing her tightly.

"You've never hugged me *this* tight," Amia mused, burying her head in her husband's shoulder.

"Yeah, well...y'know what they say."

"Oh? What do they say?"

"You know..."

Amia grinned. "No I don't,"

"You're gonna make me say it, aren't you...?" Jecht muttered hesitantly.

"Oh, yes."

"You know, that thing...'bout not knowing til you lose somethin'."

Amia laughed, a sound sorely missed by Jecht. Her laugh had always been quiet, content, not too loud and not too soft. "You mean, 'You don't know how much something means to you until you lose it?'"

"Uh, somethin' like that." Jecht mumbled. Love poems and sweet words had never been his thing; his affection was blunt, straightforward. Amia had been one of those rare women who didn't see any difference between 'Love ya.' and 'Oh, how I love thee; let me count the ways...' as long as the words were from the heart. That was part of the reason he married her.

"Why Jecht, I think that's the sweetest thing you never had the stomach to say to me," his wife teased. He chuckled briefly.

"Hey, can't blame me for trying."

"Good point."

"Love you."

"Jecht..."

"Hn..?"

"Did I die...?"

Jecht paused, wincing inwardly. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to face that question. "What makes you ask that, Mi?"

"Well this doesn't exactly look like heaven, but it's certainly not where I went to sleep...I remember being so tired."

He moved a lock of flaxen hair back behind her ears. "It doesn't matter, Mia."

"I did, didn't I? And since you're here, that means you did, too...what happened, Jecht?"

"Mi..."

Amia crawled into Jecht's lap like some sleepy child, bringing a slightly exaggerated grunt of breathlessness from her husband. "Love you too, by the way..."

"That's good," Jecht grinned in a lopsided manner, surprising himself at just how much he liked hearing that.

"Tell me what happened?" Amia asked simply.

"I already told you once. You'll remember in a little while...and we're not dead, either. We're on a ship, heading for a blitzball game in Luca...Mi, this place's called Spira."

"Spira? Sounds familiar...but I don't remember you telling me anything like this."

"You will, soon."

"Tell me again, then?"

"But..."

"Jecht, if we're dead, then we've got all the time in the world. And if we're not, then we've got the rest of our lives together, be they five hours or fifty years. Jecht...whether you told me before or not, I still need an explanation for...what happened. Why you left. And it'd better be damn good."

Jecht sighed slowly, and after a moment, bent to lightly kiss his wife. She smiled.

"Okay. And there *is* a damn good reason, too, trust me."

"Go on," Amia urged, making herself more comfortable in his embrace.

"Well...remember how the day I went out with the team, the seas were perfect..."

An hour or two later Jecht found himself heading for the uppermost deck, trailing Amia close behind him. Wakka lifted his head slightly upon hearing the elder man's arrival, but Jecht put a finger to his lips, urging him not to make a sound. Wakka nodded and dropped his head back down, closing his eyes again.

Jecht turned and took Amia's hand, leading her up onto the upper deck. Sliding an arm around her waist, he used his free hand to point to the flaxen-haired young man that lay silently on the deck's floor.

Amia froze. She glanced at Jecht, eyes alone revealing her shock.

--Tidus?-- she mouthed silently. Jecht nodded, once, and she turned back to gaze in wonder at her son. He lay on his side, his back turned to his parents, presumably napping like his companions. Amia noted the young woman closest to him; she lay too close to be anyone else. She pointed and mutely queried Jecht again:

--...Yuna?--

He nodded again, halfway grinning. Amia started to approach him, but Jecht stopped her with a gentle hand. She sent a confused look his way, and in response Jecht silently shook his head and led her back down the stairwell.

Once they'd reached the main deck again, Jecht leaned against the railing on the ship's hull and shook his head. "Don't bother them. We've got plenty of time, Mi."

"But I haven't seen him in..." His wife began.

"Mia. Let the kid be for now. When he wakes up, he'll find you soon enough. He just got back too, you know? All the boy cares about is Yuna. Yuna this, Yuna that, 'til it makes me wanna hurl. Don't bother them. He's just getting used to being with her, let alone with me. I'm trying to stay out of their way as much as I can for now. Y'see? Let him adjust."

"Jecht, I'm his *mother,* for heaven's sake!" Amia protested.

"Yeah...you're my mother."

Amia, startled, looked up to the source of the voice. Tidus looked down on them both from the upper deck, a strange sense of calmness on his face. Jecht realized it as the firm restraint of any emotion - he'd seen it on Tidus' face in his last moments in Sin. Studying the face more closely...yes, there was emotion there. Just hidden. Sadness - that's what it was.

"Tidus..." Amia murmured, rapt with the sight of him. Slowly, she smiled.

Tidus shook his head slowly, his voice holding the hint of a plea for understanding. "You're my mother. But...you died. A long time ago. So did Dad."

Jecht nodded slightly in comprehension, turning wordlessly towards the ocean and ignoring his wife's own crestfallen silence. She didn't understand now, but she would. Tidus didn't say that to hurt her - the kid had never had much capacity for cruelty. It was just a fact - he and Amia weren't part of his life anymore. It wasn't that they weren't welcome in it, simply that they...didn't belong there like they once had.

They weren't *supposed* to be a part of it. Neither of them were even supposed to be here.

Neither was Tidus, of course -- but they were all here, whether they were supposed to be or not. And Tidus' purposes for living did not include his immediate family. Maybe they would, in time; but now, though Jecht knew Tidus wouldn't say it aloud, they were intrusions. Liabilities. All he'd asked for was Yuna.

Jecht mused to himself that if this situation had come up in Zanarkand, he would have taken a swig of beer and told Tidus to go to his room and stay there. Tidus would have given him that look again, that seven-year-old's glare of betrayal, and stormed off. Typical, everyday, ho-hum life at home.

"Hey, boy."

"Yeah?"

Jecht gestured towards the front of the ship slightly, body still turned towards the sea. "We'll be in Luca 'n less than half an hour. You ready?"

"Yeah."

He nodded once. "Alright. Good."

Amia's eyes had been glued on Tidus the entire time, and she watched her son turn and head back towards the center of the upper deck. Yuna had awoken as well, and she came up to him; Amia couldn't tell what it was that Yuna asked, but he only responded with a weak shrug. She watched Yuna wrap her arms around the boy, rest her chin on his shoulder; watched as Tidus seemed to go limp in her arms even as his came around her, and could not help but note that he hadn't lost all of the child in him yet. He'd always relaxed like that in any kind of embrace; it had been one of the adorable things about him. It made Amia faintly jealous. Only she and, a few times, Jecht, had ever held him and had him react so.

"He hasn't changed that much," Amia murmured.

Jecht laughed once, gruffly. "'Least he doesn't cry anymore."

"Jecht..."

Her husband chuckled lowly to himself, shaking his head. "I'm kidding. Just give 'im time, Mi. He'll come around."

A lightly-dressed blonde girl, different this time, made her presence felt where Tidus had stood a moment before. The young woman, perhaps sixteen, stared down at Amia with wide green eyes. "Whoa...Wakka, get over here!" The girl chirped, breaking into a broad grin.

After a moment, the redhead Amia presumed to be Wakka came up next to his companion. Blinking sleepily, he seemed almost incomprehending as he too stared openly at this new turn of events. Idly, the young blonde girl jabbed her elbow into his ribs. "It's not nice to stare, Wakka."

She hadn't stopped staring herself.

Yuna reappeared next to Wakka then, looking mildly surprised. A light sea breeze had begun to blow, and so Yuna had to raise her voice slightly as she smiled, calling down,

"Hello..."

Amia smiled without meaning to. Yuna's tone was geniunely friendly, and Amia was unused to such immediate acceptance. Zanarkand's people had never liked her much, save Jecht.

"Hello."

"My name's Yuna. This is Wakka, and that's Rikku. It's...it's an honor to have you with us, Mrs. ..."

"Amia." Amia's cerulean eyes met Yuna's mixed green-and-blue ones, and Yuna found herself surprised at how intensely the older woman's gaze fixed on her. It reminded her of meeting the priest when she'd first gone to the Zanarkand dome; both she and the priest had possessed a sort of desperate calmness, if that made any sense. Composed, but at the same time, demanding. "My name is Amia."

"Well, then...welcome aboard, Amia," Yuna smiled. "We're very glad to have you."

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A/N: This chapter is verra much dedicated to Fire Rules, whom without I would no longer be posting under FF.net at all o_o; Or at least not for a loooong time. The reason it took so long to get this chapter out was my computer -- Internet Explorer decided it hated FF.net, and wouldn't let me log on. I could get into anything else just fine - Hotmail, message boards, the works. But FF.net? Nooooooo! MEAN IE! So I'm using Netscape, under Fire Rules' suggestion. =P Hail to the computer nerds! Thanks a bazillion, Timmeh!

Wow, I haven't done a third-person POV for awhile. I couldn't decide on whose POV to put it in, and I wanted to examine the Jecht-Amia thing more thoroughly (Jecht's pet name for her, Mia, is pronounced 'Mee-ah,' by the way - just a shortening of her name, not 'my-a'; Mi, as well, is just another abbreviation - it's pronounced 'Mee' ) so I just said, 'Aw, to hell with it' and did a 3rd. What'dja think? BTW, the little memory sequence in this chapter took place before Tidus was born. I figured it'd best portray Jecht and Amia's relationship if they weren't pestered by a squallin' little Tidie-Widie. =P

As for Tidus' reaction to Amia's appearance, I absolutely *could not* see Tidus jumping into her arms and cuddling her half to death. Remember, in FFX, when Tidus was telling Yuna about his parents' relationship? And he was reminiscing on how his mom just adored his dad and gave all her attention to him, which is why he hated his father. I quote:

Tidus: "But then..."

(Memory) Li'l Tidus: 'Mommy!'

Amia: 'Just a minute, dear.' (totally not paying attention, doting on Jecht)

Jecht: 'Ah, go to him. He'll cry if you don't.' (Hey! Listen close - there's fondness in that voice, meant towards Tidus. :D )

Note how it's implied that while reflecting on that memory, Tidus realizes that his father is the only one of his parents showing any concern for him at that moment. Sure, he loved his mom plenty, but by now he realizes that it wasn't his father's fault that Amia never paid attention to him as a child. And after them being 'dead' for so many years, he's bound to have some rough spots with them both. I think this is just the best way to illustrate the relationship between the three. And yes, I do fully believe that even the 'eternally miffed' Jecht can be undone by the powers of love. Hehe. I'm silly.

I think I told you guys already, but if I haven't, DCT's likely going to be a 30 - 35 chapter endeavor. =3 Yummy!

Ooo...100th review's getting close. n_n In the way of Fire Rules, I shall offer a.....cyber cookie! Mwaha! El cookie goes to the 100th reviewer. =3

Expect more soon.