Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Guardian ❯ Sunrise ( Chapter 5 )

Guardian, Chapter 5
Sunrise

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In the bleak half-light of an early autumn dawn, I sifted clumsily through precarious mountains of fetchingly bright cardboard carcasses, the empty remains of many a night's meal that had been stacked carelessly on the kitchen counters. Oh, Serra had had presence of mind enough to authorize me on her account that I might purchase plainer and healthier fare to prepare ourselves, but I was a fair cook at best, and few indeed were the familiar ingredients I was able to find in these sterile, unnaturally fulgent and foreign stores. Serra had cooked a bit at first, but she rarely left her room anymore, and so Tidus and I subsisted mostly on 'take-out'. Well, he subsisted, and I ate to keep him company. I had little taste for it, and even less need, but I certainly had no reason to reveal that to anyone. This morning I was stumbling half-asleep through the mess because today was 'trash day', and if I didn't hurry up and get these boxes out there for the workers to collect we would have to live with them piling up around us for another week.

Some part of me cringed in abhorrence from the disheveled state of the house as I walked through it, everything strewn about in general disarray and collecting a generous layer of dust. In another life I'd been a man who prized order and neatness, a soldier-priest who kept his quarters immaculate and was fastidious about his appearance, oiling leather and weapons regularly whether they needed it or not, polishing boots until they shone with a dull black gleam. I was not that man anymore. I had not the energy. Yet enough of him remained that I would not suffer us to cohabitate with the vermin that this refuse would soon begin to attract.

Pausing at the front door with a bulky, overloaded bag slung over each shoulder, I glanced down the hall and grimaced. The tray Tidus had asked me to lay out for his mother had once again gone untouched. Had she eaten at all this week?

Summer had slowly changed into a season that wasn't quite autumn -- not to me, not without the expected brisk touch of crisp, cooling winds and the stark contrast of leaves newly dyed a riotous mélange of gold, carnelian and crimson interlaced over a bright blue sky. Though the days shortened, the temperature dropped only marginally. As the season turned over, Serra had begun to fade out like a painting left too long in the sun. All color left her already-pale skin save for the darkening circles beneath her shadowed eyes, whose unusual irises had lightened in hue from lavender to a sad, almost-colorless grey. She emerged increasingly less often from the darkened cave of the master bedroom, rising later and later, retiring earlier and earlier, until eventually she never left it at all. I cared for the child and the garden as best I could, but I fear that they both suffered under my clumsy touch.

I was accustomed to slaying fiends and journeying through treacherous territory; how to rescue a woman drowning in her own sorrow was completely beyond me, especially when she seemed to fight all of my attempts to pull her out, refusing any proffered aid. She steadfastly waited instead for it to close over her head, swallowing her in its depthless forgetful oblivion. She wanted to die, to be again with Jecht.

Well, she'd be in for a rude awakening then, wouldn't she? Reaching the Farplane only to find him absent?

I had little enough experience dealing with women, being a man fully consumed by duty, completely dedicated to my Summoner and his cause. Nothing serious had ever developed out of my brief interludes with the opposite sex, and I had never had cause to treat them with anything other than polite formality, which was not serving me well in this case. Serra merely ignored me and my attempts to civilly prod her to eat, to care for her son. The boy's tears elicited more of a response, but even his pleas eventually had little effect. Resigned, I had at last respectfully left her alone with her grief.

I walked outside shirtless and barefoot, unaware of the chill as I deposited my plastic burdens in the appropriate place. I stood for a long moment, watching the sun begin to peek out over the watery horizon, abruptly caught up and tightly bound by bitter memories that would not yield. How many mornings had I stood thus, watching the sun rise from over the sleeping bodies of the only two people I had ever loved, the men closer to me than any brothers born of the same blood? For I had always taken the third watch, standing guard over those long hours that tax even the most vigilant, when the seductive allure of slumber tugs at heavy eyelids and muddles unwary thoughts. It had been my duty as the most experienced Guardian. I could close my eyes now and still see the pale rosy light stealing over the peaceful planes of Braksa's fair face as he slept curled on his side, the early rays adding a lavender cast to the sky blue of his unbound hair. Just as vividly could I picture Jecht, arms and legs splayed as he lay on his back, face relaxed in quiet repose and not snoring to wake the dead as I'd always assumed that he must, as loud and obnoxious as he was at any other time. He had surprised me in many ways, deftly shattering all of my preconceived notions of him and exposing them for the prejudices that they were. How I wished now that I had told him, back then, that I was sorry for that.

Wanting suddenly nothing more than just to sleep forever and forget, I dragged myself inside to collapse into bed and seek in vain the blessed oblivion that danced elusively at the edges of my consciousness as I lay tossing and turning. I finally dozed off well after the sun had climbed into the sky, a pillow shoved over my head as a feathery aegis against the evil brightness. A pointless endeavor, as I was only to be awakened what seemed like minutes later by quiet sobbing from the next room. An additional pillow did nothing to muffle the sound so I gave a long-suffering groan and got up.

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End Chapter 5

~Sango (sango_chan@hotmail.com)