Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Guardian ❯ Honor ( Chapter 7 )

Guardian, Chapter 7
Honor

--------------------------------------

It was still hard, so hard, to wake up in the mornings without him. After I would get up and shower it became tolerable, and at times during the day I almost felt alive again. But the dawning of each day was still hopelessly bleak and melancholy, as my sleeping mind forgot -- ignored? -- reality, and I reached out for him only to find cold, barren sheets. Worse still were the first moments of wakefulness after a night of dreaming about him, when remembrance settled cold upon me like a blanket of falling snow. Then I would cry again, though I forced myself to stop after a little while and stumble to the bathroom, performing my usual ablutions as though they were a ritual against sorrow. And strangely, it usually worked. There was something about the mindless monotony of daily routine that numbed the pain, allowing me to go on living.

And somehow, that was what I had to do. Auron's words haunted me: I could not forget the simple truth that Jecht would not have wanted me to throw my life away. It had not been conscious, but I knew that I had slowly been courting death of my own accord, and would have soon embraced it, without his intervention. And then there was his pained confession of his own misfortune. How could I see the anguish that he lived with daily, and not try? My willingness to die seemed to degrade all that he and Jecht and Braska freely gave up -- their very lives.

Today was a good morning. Jecht was a comforting weight on my heart, reminding me of his love but bringing only muted pain. I sang a bit as I worked in my garden, coaxing reluctant greenery into bloom. The dreary grey of winter rains had finally lightened into occasional spring showers, and the sun's increasing warmth hinted at the summer soon to come. Wanting to take some beauty indoors with me, I picked a few blossoms that would not be missed, tucking a few into my hair on a whim, saving the rest for a vase.

I came inside to find that Tidus had "made breakfast", and his earnest little face managed to keep me from sighing as I smiled and thanked him. He'd made quite a mess, but his heart was in the right place. I sent him outside for a bit so that I could clean it up and drink some coffee in peace. I had just set it to brewing when a loud noise against the window startled me, and upon seeing what it was I could not contain the laughter that bubbled up suddenly from my chest. I laughed out loud for the first time in longer than I could remember, and felt again a joy I had almost forgotten.

--------------------------------------

Nestled in the space between wakefulness and slumber, my mind spun indescribable dreams, imbued with the deep ache of hopeless longing. I dreamed of the Farplane, my soul reaching out in sleep to the one place I refused to let my thoughts dwell upon while awake.

I had caught glimpses of it before, in the Guado homestead: nebulous and airy, eternally still and completely dead quiet. But the pervading silence was comforting, as though the clouded mist gently swallowed all discordant sound, inviting weary souls to let go and take rest in its soft, eternal embrace.

What would it be like, to sleep on such a cloud -- if they were indeed made of the wonderful fluffy substance imagined by the mind of a child, and not just so much rain biding its time? Here, in this brief limbo I relented enough to let myself wonder--

And unbidden, I suddenly found myself there, seated cross-legged on a huge puff of purest white, ghostly tendrils curling up lazily to surround me. The tangible mist glowed softly with a radiance lent by the late sun, warm to the touch and soft as breath.

With a deep sigh emanating from the core of my soul, I stretched out onto my side, nestling into shifting silk, watching it cover me with protective, snowy arms, and just letting go. The unbearable tension of my unnatural, forced existence drained completely away, and finally I knew only peace.

Briefly.

The sudden peal of sound was so unnatural and foreign that I was rolling out of bed, reaching for the broadsword that wasn't at my side as it should have been, before I ever came fully awake. But as my hand touched the haft, the innocuousness of the disturbance finally registered as it rang out once more. Mellifluous and sweet, it emanated from the direction of the kitchen only slightly muffled by the walls.

Serra was laughing.

She looked up as I entered, still smothering only slightly hysterical giggles behind her hand. She looked to be in much better health, I suddenly realized, though I could now see that it had been a very gradual change. Rose tinted her cheeks, a hint of merriment lit her violet eyes. She wore in her hair a few early blossoms from her garden that must have been procured that morning, judging from the scent they still produced.

Still incapable of coherent speech, she pointed out the window in response to my somewhat incredulous expression. Crossing the room, I peered out to find a very wet, very miserable cat clinging to the screen by all four clawed feet.

"Tidus decided to give him a bath--" She gasped out, before a fit of giggles took her again.

The explanation seemed unnecessary, as the boy had just sprayed the poor creature again with the hose. "I can see that."

She made a visible attempt to sober herself, though I rather wished she hadn't. My sharp ears still caught the sound of her heartbroken sobbing at times, and I wanted this rare happiness to stay as long as it would.

I glanced down at the kitchen, my eyes taking note of the rest of my surroundings by long force of habit. I groaned inwardly as I saw the overflowing bowl on the table, brimming with more cereal than ten people could eat, and with what looked to be an entire container of milk poured over it, most of which was now on the floor, together with the orange juice that hadn't quite made it into the glass.

She smiled again and sighed, knowing that I was well familiar with this particular morning routine. In spite of my many heated attempts to convince Tidus that I did not eat in the mornings, he had made me breakfast as well, often enough. Ignoring the mess, she asked, "Coffee?"

I sighed irritably and grunted something like an affirmation. Death and Tidus had not made me any more of a morning person.

She grinned at my expense and moved to get a mug as I sat ungracefully on the one chair not dripping milk. I tried not to watch her, but that was nearly impossible. With the lifting of her depression, her beauty had returned tenfold. I wondered how Jecht could ever have left her for anything, even that absurd sport he adored. Her hair shone with renewed vibrancy, colorful flora tucked girlishly into the nut-brown strands, its greater length leading the eye toward curves that had returned when I wasn't looking. Her wide, wondrous eyes could have captured any man's soul with their ever-shifting hue, from palest amethyst to an almost-black violet.

And I was no exception.

A Guardian's reflexes never die, apparently, even though he does. She slipped on the return trip and I caught her without thinking, and the mug, too. Necessity forced me to hold her against me much longer than I would have liked, until she could regain her footing on the slick floor. I cursed Tidus again in my head for the misfortune he continuously brought upon me. Her heady scent suffused my senses, all warm honey and intoxicating spicy ginger. Oh, what a wonderful friend I am, lusting after the dead friend's wife I'm supposed to be guarding!

She smiled with grateful innocence as her eyes caught mine, laughing as I released her, thankfully unaware of my inexcusably base thoughts, not noticing as I tried to wipe the feel of her bare silken skin from my fingers.

"Thank you, Auron, for rescuing me from my clumsiness." She sobered and tilted her head slightly sideways. "But I suppose that is what you are used to, isn't it, Sir Guardian? Rescuing damsels in distress?" The laugh was back in her voice and I realized that she was mocking me, but only a little. I didn't bother to correct her and point out that a Guardian only rescues his Summoner. I wanted only to be as far away as possible.

I turned to leave, trying to escape and somehow collect my thoughts, but a small hand on my arm stopped me. I tried not to flinch, but she could not have missed my rigid stance.

Again serious, she asked, "How does one thank a Guardian?" At my silence she plucked a flower from her hair and held it out to me, with a curtsy graceful enough for all that it was obviously long unused. Then she raised her head and winked at me, amused by my discomfiture, and began to clean up Tidus's well-meaning mess. She was humming as I left, completely oblivious to the much greater mess she had made of me.

I threw myself back on the bed, my thoughts racing wildly. Honor urged me to leave, lest my feelings lead me to betrayal, but I had sworn in blood and tears to guard them! I had no choice; somehow I must stay here and endure.

The lone flower mocked me with its sculptured, delicate beauty from the night table where I had flung it, reminding me of how it had looked caught in the shining lacework of her hair. I turned my back to it, closing my eyes, and sought escape in the only way permissible...

--------------------------------------
End Chapter 7

I promise that Sojourn ch.4 is almost done, if any of you have been waiting on it...